Once a Rookie, Always a Rookie
by Twisted Fate MK 2
Summary: (Credit to Adrasos on Archive and his story, Prepare to Drop, for the idea.) On the way down to New Mombasa, Rookie falls into the Slipspace Rupture and ends up crashing down on Menae, high above Palaven, while Shepard tries to find and rescue the new Primarch. From there, the war itself will shift and the fighting persists, but who knows what an ODST will add to the mix.
1. Chapter 1

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Below him, through the viewing port beneath his feet that allowed he and other Helljumpers to see where they were going - for as little as it mattered, given the positions they would be in - was the great, blue jewel of Earth. Humanity's birthplace, the Covenant's most coveted target according to anyone with sense, and now that the Covenant had found it, probably the last battlefield on which the existence of the Human race would be bet.

"All or nothing, and the house looks like it's cheating. And not in our favor." He grumbled to himself, looking down at the great blue ball.

Or, well, the great _orange_ one more like right now. With the sun edging around the horizon and bathing the sky he wasn't even in yet in a warm orange glow, the clouds tinged in reds and pinks from the light washing from one end to the other, the varying moisture levels and cloud densities causing the light to refract and fragment into a dozen colors that cast themselves on the clouds. Like the world was putting on a lightshow, guiding them all down welcomingly to fight the invaders bathing it in blood and plasma.

Red lights flashed on, bathing him in the warm light, and he took a breath. His fingers flexed along the grips to either side of himself, the Gunnery Sergeant's voice coming through the speakers around him, "Alright, ladies, Romeo and… other ladies, I guess, get ready to drop in one. See you in the thick of it."

He tuned out what Romeo said in return, eyes closing instead and right leg bouncing in time with a count in his head. An old habit, and a bad one by a lot of people's assertions, but not one he was going to even bother _trying_ to stop. He had a million bad habits he could have chosen, and this one wasn't giving him cancer or killing his liver and kidneys. Not that climbing into a small metal coffin and dropping from low-orbit was any better, really.

Sixty seconds, and it was clever quips, red ready lights, and everything else that 'Troopers did before they dove into hell in 'Pods or Pelicans both.

Forty-five, and Buck ordered another weapons check no one needed. Not a single soul closed their pods without checking their gear, and Buck knew that. But it was better that to occupy the time than silence and droning beeping in his ears. It would only make everyone even more anxious.

Thirty seconds, and his knuckles began to ache from how hard he was gripping the handholds, knuckles almost definitely white under his gloves. His jaw clenched and his heart raced, blood pounding in his ears. He took a deep breath and held it, then let go a few seconds later to calm himself. This was nothing compared to facing down a charging Hunter or a rampaging Brute, after all, and he'd done _both_ those things, and then later he'd run from a tactical warhead. A little fall wouldn't kill him.

He hoped, at least.

The two view screens on the door of the pod flickered on, staticy a bit but more than workable, and Dare spoke first, "Latest intel reports Covenant troops are massing beneath the Covenant carrier."

"They're falling back?" Buck asked, sounding as surprised as they all did at the news. Covenant didn't fall back, not normally, and when they did it was usually bad from Rook's experience. "Why?"

"We're not going to find out way up here." She answered sharply, definitely more than she needed to be at such a simple question. Whoever she was, she and Buck knew each other or something, because there was _something_ there.

"Troopers!" Buck started, ignoring her entirely and proving that _something_ was going on there. "We are green, and very, very mean!"

A moment later, their pods began detaching from the ship they were in, hurtling into freefall high above New Mombasa. They hurtles through the soundless void just above the atmosphere, or high enough it didn't cause any sound or friction yet, and Rook looked out at the crest of the Earth's round shape. Every planet was the same, in a single view, when you looked at the curve of the planet itself bending away from you.

"I take it back," drew his attention ahead of himself, Rome's voice sounding sickly amused as the ruined and burning hulk of what looked like a frigate came into view probably miles from them, "Navy got its butt kicked."

"Hey Romeo? Remember when I told you to shut your mouth?"

"Yeah?"

"Consider that a standing order." It looked like Buck didn't appreciate the humor any more than Rook or the others probably did. Whatever his opinions, Romeo didn't respond after that, so it seemed like he at least followed orders.

"Captain, this-" He lost the rest in static for a moment as they transitioned into full atmosphere and the pods adjusted. Buck and the others looked to be below him, so they'd passed the transition zone, which was why they were talking.

"Stand by to adjust trajectory." Dare, according to her helmet at least, answered whatever Buck had said. His eyes locked onto her polarized visor and narrowed questioningly, but one of the others spoke for him. "On my mark."

"What'd she just say?"

"Mark."

The pods ahead of him jerked a split second before his did, angling to the side of the carrier now, at the city's heart instead of the carrier's. Again, one of the others spoke his complaints for him, "We're way off course!"

"We're heading exactly where I need to go." Dare answered cryptically, and John's stomach tightened. A spook, then, it had to be and that explained the unexplained course adjustment, the odd looking helmet, and why she'd tagged on to the squad at the last moment.

"But we're gonna miss the carrier."

"Radiation!" Another barked, and now he was wishing he'd memorized names to voices instead of counting on helmets like he had as a Marine and in his first unit of ODSTs, who he'd been with for weeks before dropping with them.

"Covenant set off a damn nuke?"

No, they didn't use nuclear weaponry, which meant an impossibly unlikely and insane Insurrectionist attack, or-

"No… The carrier is going to jump." Dare filled out his thoughts before he could follow them, and _now_ the young Helljumper was scared far more seriously. "It's a Slipspace rupture, you need to-"

"EMP!"

Static washed over his comms for a moment, but he caught Buck's, "-and pop your chutes, we're going in hard!" Before one of the pods slammed into his, and then he slammed into another's, grabbing the handle on the door in front of him and fighting against gravity, momentum, and whatever gods existed to keep it closed lest he be flung into open air to smear against the ground far below.

He saw the ground below, then a wash of purple as he hurtled towards the ship, and then the sky overhead before his vision darkened from the G-forces being applied to him now. He saw another blue, this one bright enough to hurt even with his visor polarized against it, and his eyes widened.

He was hurtling _into_ the 'rupture, and that was _very_ bad.

Inside the 'rupture, the world he found was a mix of all different colors, swirling in his sight almost mesmerizingly. It lasted only a moment, though, before the weightlessness gave way to gravity again and the world was a black night's sky, unfamiliar stars and a rocky surface beneath him visible through spider-webbing cracks all along the surfaces of his pod's viewing panels, if he could see through them at all.

 _Something_ slammed into his pod and jerked it to the side, but whatever it was hadn't pierced the armor and only succeeded in altering his course towards some kind of plateau, all grey stone and metal structures from what little he could glean with all the spinning his drop pod was currently doing.

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"Vega, move front and attract their fire. Vakarian, find a position and look for targets, support Vega while you're at it." Shepard ordered, sprinting far to the left towards one of the small shed-like buildings the Turian defenders had set up to use as cover and shelter. "I've got left flank."

Her left shoulder slammed into the cover and a Turian above her barely spared a glance to confirm that she wasn't a Husk and then turned back, putting suppressing bursts onto several of the Marauders on the far end of the wide open are in the middle of the camp. The creatures spread out well enough, a couple of Cannibals scattered among their number, using scattered boulders and crates both as low cover.

"Target down." Garrus called over the coms as one's head exploded and it fell back, legs twitching. "Vega, Cannibals are-"

"I know, _Gilipollas_." The man snarled, rounding the corner and putting two heavy blasts from his Katana into the Reaper. It screeched as the first hit, sprawling wildly on the ground before the second carved into its face and ended it entirely. A Marauder nearby saw this and fired a burst towards him, but he was in cover far before the rounds hit the metal crate he was kneeling behind, "How about you do your job though, _Genio._ "

"You know, Vega, we have translators." Shepard cracked, leaning out with her Avenger and sending a burst into a Cannibal's back, staggering it. It turned to snarl at her and she sent another burst into its face, just under some armored plating, and watched it slump to the ground before she slid back into cover, "If you're gonna call us names, saying them in Spanish won't help you too much."

"Habit, Commander, I was raised on it so-"

"Commander, I am registering something incoming on your position." EDI's voice interrupted him, the woman turning from the fight and stepping further into hard cover to hear her better. "Scans indicate it is a small, metallic item, but not of Reaper origin."

"Debris from the space battle?" Unlikely, but she had to ask.

"Negative, the metal is relatively solid on a structural integrity scan, and the Turian forces are not contesting this airspace currently with capital ships." The AI answered back simply, "It also was not on sensors before, and suddenly appeared in atmosphere high above you moments ago, along with an… Odd spike of radiation I am unfamiliar with."

"Radiation?" Odd, but she shelfed that concern for the moment and turned to scan the battlefield again, asking, "Where is it going to land?"

"Approximately seven feet ahead of Lieutenant Vega, and two more to the left, in under ninety seconds according to current speed."

"Son-of-a-bitch, Vega! Fall back, we have an unknown coming down near your position, sixty seconds out." Shepard stepped out of cover to cover the man's retreat as he himself stood and bolted back, unloading the rest of her Avenger's clip in the direction of anything that both moved and didn't look _quite_ Turian enough for her taste.

True to EDI's word, ninety seconds after she'd warned them what looked and _felt_ like a missile slammed into the ground behind the Reaper's defensives lines, crushing a metal crate under its weight and hurling the various Husks to the ground around it on that side of the battlefield. The Turians flinched at the arrival too, freezing for the briefest of moments possible, before they resumed firing at the remaining Reaper units. Several Marauders and Cannibals staggered as they rose, wounded from the object's arrival but still alive, and rounds from Shepard's Avenger scythed into two of them and drove them down in burts of old blood and bits of flesh and metal, the Turians matching her opportunistic viciousness.

The last couple of Marauders fell to the combined fire of the Turians present and herself, and then the plateau fell very suddenly and very uncomfortably quiet around them.

It was short lived, before she lowered her rifle and called out, "Vega, Vakarian, check in."

"Status green." Garrus answered, striding up behind her as she moved towards the massive oval of what looked like armored metal, a dent on one side where _something_ had struck it with more force than the ground apparently had. "Little low on ammo, though. What is this thing?"

"Status green." Vega chipped in, holstering his Katana on the back of his waist and getting closer to inspect the thing while the Turians went about securing weapons, ammunition, and wounded. Several started the arduous process of hauling Reaper corpses away as well, and at her request, one ran off to find the new Primarch, Victus. "Looks like… A life pod, maybe? But not one of ours, definitely."

"Ma'am." Shepard turned, a thinner than usual Turian in dirty and scorched red armor carrying an Avenger like her own ran up to her, quickly rattling out, "General Victus is waiting for you, Ma'am. He says he will be ready to depart momentarily, he's issuing standing orders and last dispatches before he goes."

"Understood." She nodded, grimacing as he turned and jogged away again, sighing tiredly and sadly. "They'll probably lose this moon without him here to lead them, won't they, Garrus?"

"We will, yeah." Garrus answered, voice a low tone she knew meant he was hurt by the thought. She looked to him, and for once saw a Turian instead of Garrus, gazing at the great orange spot on Palaven he had said was once his home and understood. But he moved on quickly enough, rolling his neck and raising his Mantis, "Gonna do a few last calls of my own, if you don't mind, Shepard."

"Bring General Victus back-"

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"-with you when you are done, we need to get out of here." JD coughed, pressing a hand against his side and groaning lowly while he listened to one of the only two voices he could understand. Bruised ribs all along the side of his chest, and he _hated_ bruised ribs. Hurt just enough to be annoying. "And see if he has heavy gear, if this thing is a lifepod we need to see if the occupants survived."

He couldn't make out what the others were saying, all he could hear was a series of odd clicking sounds that he wasn't sure _weren't_ his coming from his frankly ruined drop-pod. But it had received answers before, as muted as they had been especially in the sounds of combat that had briefly followed his rather hard landing on… Whatever planet or moon this was. The UNSC forces here were obviously engaged against Covenant forces and unable to call for help or rescue, because they wouldn't be here instead of at Earth if that wasn't the case. The UNSC had done an almost complete recall of forces to defend the homeworld, and he doubted some rocky moon would be exempt from that order.

Carefully, he rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up so he was sitting on the back of his chair, grabbing first his M6C and checking its integrated sights. Satisfied when they worked, as disorienting as the impromptu check was for the briefest moment when he zoomed in on his leg, he holstered the weapon on his thigh and reached for his M7S, running the same check on it and ejecting the magazine as well to check the rounds were intact and seemed safe enough to use. The last thing a 'Trooper wanted was to drop, move out, and when they engage their gun blows up in their hands.

Satisfied, he reached up to press the emergency release buttons on his pod, small green lights sparking to life before he hit the last one. Readying his M7S, he took a breath, and the door launched into the air and away with a loud whoosh. Rookie followed it, rising in one fluid motion and raising his submachine gun readily, facing the sound of a woman's voice barking orders as those around him scrambled away.

Two humans stood closest, one in heavy armor and the other in at _best_ a recon set of some sort, rifles pointed at him. Around him, odd aliens clicked and hissed at each other, spreading out and pointing rifles of some kind at him - though many had the same as the woman in front of him. That implied affiliation, maybe even an alliance.

Rebels and some Covenant race he hadn't seen, maybe?

No, this was a battlefield as clear as any he had seen before, so this was a combat race. They'd have been deployed at some point, and the way the creatures moved - disciplined, circling him, weapons steady and none speaking save two in heavier looking armor - spoke of strict military discipline, hard training, and experience together after both had been instilled in them properly.

"Hold fire, hold fire! It's a human, and that's not Cerberus as far as I know." The woman, her voice and body shape - lithe, but the strong kind born of combat and experience, and easily seen under her armor as close as it hugged her - ordered, and his eyes narrowed when the aliens seemed to _listen_ to her. Heads turned slightly when she spoke and one in blue armor clicked something at them or her, the woman spoke to him directly, her hand moving from the grip of her rifle into the air in a show of peace, "I'm Commander Jane Shepard, Alliance N7 Operative and Council Spectre! Who are you?"

"John Doe," she snorted, but he continued in the same low tone, "Lance Corporal, Orbital Drop Shock Trooper, squad designation Alpha-Nine, serial designation 11282-31220-JD under standard United Nations Space Command military designations. Code name Rookie." He spared the unknown aliens a glance and returned his gaze to the woman's mask, eyes visible through a small and clear glass visor above her lips and over her nose, "I don't recognize your unit designation."

"Which one?" She asked carefully, eyes searching his polarized visor for something. The blue alien said something to her, and she shook her head, "No, Garrus, I don't… I don't think he's Cerberus. The insignias he has don't match any of theirs I know of."

"Any of them." He answered her question, and after a second he clarified for her, "Spectre, Council, Alliance, N7. These designations are unfamiliar to me. Are you under ONI jurisdiction?" It would explain the aliens, but only partially.

"United Nations Space Command is unfamiliar to me, too, you said Rookie was your designation, right? I assume you'd prefer I use that?" He nodded, and she lowered her rifle marginally, "Look, I don't know what is going on, but we're in a warzone. I can't keep the Turians from shooting you forever, Rookie."

"Turians?" He gave the aliens a look, searching odd faces and dark-visored masks for anything that would betray something of note. His grip tightened on the M7S' small grip, and the 'Turians' shifted anxiously, but none moved to defy the woman, Shepard. Something caught his eye off to his right and he turned slightly, and froze.

A world on fire, great orange spots raging, and a massive ship of some kind lumbering in the distance, lances of red lasers like streams of molten steel carving out and across the ground, great gouts of explosions sounding behind it in a trail of destruction. Around the plateau, a dark landscape of black stone spires and fields of rocks stretched out, fighters of two types buzzing over it and blasting each other out of the air, and entrenched positions - destroyed and still fighting - dotted the landscape wherever the terrain was most suited.

A missile from the ground soared into the air and slammed into the titanic ship, the thing sagging only slightly before it turned, and a lance of that red and orange attack carved out and through it in a shower of molten metal and sparks. A moment later, munitions or fuel caught light and ignited in another shower of sparks, molten metal and destruction, flying through the air and peppering the ground around it.

"Where am I, and what is happening?" He asked, lowering his weapon and clambering out of the pod, dropping to the ground uncaring of the weapons still trained on him. "And what," he started, pointing a finger at the ship carving scorch-lines across the terrain miles away, "is that?"

"Menae, a moon orbiting Palaven." The woman answered, waving a hand at the aliens. Most lowered their rifles, and Blue chittered something that made them all stand down and return to whatever they'd been doing. He didn't react to either name, standing relaxedly in front of his pod, and the woman sighed audibly, "Menae is classified, but _Palaven_ didn't mean anything to you?"

"No."

"It's the Turian homeworld." The woman said, gesturing at Blue when he and the hispanic looking soldier joined her and stood to either side protectively. "And that is a Reaper. They're carving it up like a Thanksgiving Turkey, just like Earth, and we need to-"

"They're attacking Earth?" He snapped, taking a step towards her as his pulse spiked. "What about the Covenant?"

"I don't- The what?" She asked, and he ignored the two half-raising their rifles at his sudden movement. They wouldn't shoot him unless he made a more hostile move, the discipline shown here proved that to him. "Not important right now- Look, yes, Earth is under attack, just like here. I'm here on a classified operation to extract a VIP in hopes of assembling a force to counter-attack in furtherance to emergency galactic pursuit of systems defence."

"Understood." He nodded, snapping a salute and coming to attention, the woman flinching at the sudden action. "Lance Corporal John Doe, reporting for duty in the defense of Earth as per standing Winter Contingency protocols and orders. Until I can ascertain what has happened to me, I place myself under your command as the ranking Human officer, Ma'am. Pending a review of the matters at hand, of course."

"What the hell…" The hispanic man shook his head, looking at the woman and sighing, "Commander, your call, but this reeks of somethin' a bit more off than I would be comfortable with."

"I-" several of the Turians started clicking and hissing again urgently and she turned, looking back at a half-ruined wall as the defender leapt down and tried to bolt. The wall slammed down before the alien could though, pinning it, and a massive claw slammed down and ripped the alien in half as a creature lumbered forward.

"Reapers!" The woman called, the warning was less than necessary though, the Turians were already moving behind crates for cover as several synthetic looking Turians - or he thought they were, at least - began spreading out behind the creature, using it as armored cover to advance. "Defensive positions, Vakarian, Vega, defend the Primarch and pull him back."

"Ma'am." Vega, now named, responded along with something like that from the Turian, turning and hogging off towards a cluster of other Turians swarming protectively over one in dirty armor and heavy cover.

She slammed against a crate and Rookie followed, each on a corner of the massive thing while she spoke, "Look, gonna assume you've been living under a rock and don't know shit about shit, because I don't want either of us dying, okay?" He nodded, and she took a breath, "Reapers bad, Turians good. Primarch needs to stay safe for the war effort. That big one is a Brute, it has heavy armor. The little ones are Marauders, they have shields and command roles, I think. The rounder ones are Cannibals, don't let them get to their fallen, and they don't have shields so they're easy to kill. Roger?"

"Roger." He answered, flicking the safety of his M7S back off and looking over his shoulder at her, "Permission to engage and ROE?"

"Granted, fuck it, go wild and kill anything that looks like those three." She answered, slamming what he assumed to be ammunition into her rifle and, "I'll let you know if any new kinds of Reapers show up. 'Til then, kill anything that looks like those. Good?"

"Understood. Engaging." He stood without another word and stepped from cover, sighting down one of the Marauders with his M7, putting the circle-sight on its torso and opening with a long burst of automatic fire.

The creature stumbled under the fire, turning and returning several shots while it sparked, and the Rookie stepped to the side suddenly. The rounds passed by harmlessly as its shields died, and the next several ripped into its upper chest and throat, killing it. A round glanced off his chest-plate and he slammed down against a crate, quickly running the angle through his head and rising again inside a few seconds. The round shape of a Cannibal was the first thing he saw, and a quartet of rounds into what he guessed was its head that sent it careening against the back of a Marauder firing on the massed Turians.

"Husk!" He heard the woman roar from behind him, turning to see a vaguely human _thing_ leap off a crate at him and dropping his M7.

He reached out quickly, grabbing an arm and yanking down to slam it into the ground and drawing his SOCOM in his off hand. A round to the head finished it, and he raised the sidearm to sight another one rushing around the crate, perforating first it and then two more with a pair of rounds each and kneeling on instinct when he didn't see any more of the creatures.

Several fiery rounds lanced over his head while he reloaded the sidearm and placed it back on his thigh, retrieving his M7 and doing the same. Firing bursts as she moved, the 'Spectre' moved from her cover to his, sending short bursts downrange as she went while rounds sparked off her chest harmlessly for several seconds, the woman kneeling before her shields - and didn't that cement that he wasn't in Kansas anymore - dropped entirely.

"Two Cannibals at nine, a Marauder at twelve, and that Brute is closing on the Primarch. Can you handle them for me so I can deal with the Brute?" He nodded and she sighed, looking at him, "Got any grenades?"

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To her surprise, he held up two small, green grenades that looked like something out of an old war movie. She took them, though, sighing and asking, "How do I set these, and what are the detonation times?"

"Depress the buttons and throw them." He answered simply, shrugging his armored shoulders when she tilted her helmet in clear question at him. He sighed, and continued in a tired tone, "It won't detonate in your hand or the air. It has to strike the ground or a hard surface, and then it will detonate."

"Huh." She plucked one from his outstretched hand and stood, pressing the small, red button she found on top of it and flinging it towards a couple Cannibals. It bounced of one's back and hit the ground, rolling an inch before it exploded in light and shrapnel, ripping the two Cannibals to shreds along with the corpse they had been feasting on. Taking the other, she stepped out of cover and holstered her Avenger, drawing her Carnifex instead, "Cover me, would you kindly?"

She didn't wait for his answer, raising her Carnifex to snap a shot into a Cannibal that noticed her and then bolting towards the Brute's back as it charged at Vega. The large hispanic man managed to leap back as his cover was crushed, coming up in front of the line of Turians that were pouting fire onto the beast, but the Brute raised its claw high to crush Vega, the cover, and the Turians in one. The Turians, at least, scattered but Vega had nowhere to go.

Which meant _she_ would have to, she just hoped Rookie could cover her properly as she holstered her Carnifex and brought up her Omni-Tool. The Tech-Armor program wasn't hers, but it would work, and she keyed it up as she ran. The holographic armor, condensed Omni-Gel forming armor plating and routing power and processing systems in her 'Tool into the defensive measures, deflected the single round a Marauder managed to squeeze out before she looked and saw it collapse under a lance of fire from the Rookie's suppressed weapon. A Cannibal next to it rounded on her as well and suffered the same fate, and then a second Cannibal met it as well as it leapt down off the roof of one of the Turian deployed structures.

Three steps from the Brute, she made a fist and made a twisting motion, the standard motions to trigger the Omni-Blade program that military 'Tools came prebuilt with now. The glowing blade sprang to life just as she reached the Brute, she leapt onto its back, surprising the Reaper abomination.

It snarled and staggered under her weight, and she tried not to be offended at that but burying her Omni-Blade into the shoulder the claw-arm was attached to felt satisfying regardless. Planting her knees on the small of its back while it bucked her, trying to throw her, she shouted, "Get back, I'm deploying explosives!"

Vega clumsily leapt onto the crate as the creature turned back to him, warbling angrily, and he bolted when she raised her other fist with the grenade and depressed the trigger. "Here goes nothing smart!"

She pitched the grenade under the Brute and crouched down on it, eyes scrunching shut anxiously. The grenade went off and the Brute stumbled to the side and then fell silently, the woman on top rolling off and drawing her Carnifex warily, levelling it at the creature and taking a deep breath. The creature shook for several seconds, and then went still, and she heard the all clear cries going out around her.

"Joker, get a damn shuttle down here for the new Primarch." She watched the Rookie rise, coming towards them all, and sighed, "And advise the others, I'm coming with two more guests as well. Have Liara run searches for me on 'United Nations Space Command', 'ONI', and a squad 'Alpha-Nine, if she can spare the time for it. We have a weird one."

When she turned, the Rookie was just behind her, standing in his relaxed stance, and she sighed tiredly, cocking a hand with a hip on it, "Heard that?" A nod, and her brow rose, "Are you going quiet because I called you weird."

"No." He answered simply, "I don't like talking if I don't have to."

"Uh huh." She shook her head as Vega and Garrus joined them, the dark armored man taking a step away from the alien. "Well, you better get ready to do a _lot_ of it, because I have as many questions as the Reapers have… Bad ideas, I guess."

"Great analogy." Vega chuckled, wincing when she shot him a look, "Uh, Commander?"

"Come on," she sighed when she saw the Kodiak coming down, searching for a landing zone. She already knew this was going to be a long, long conversation with Hackett when they got back.

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 _ **Credit for the story idea goes to a story titled Prepare to Drop, by an author on Archive named Adrasos, and written with the permission from said author to use their initial idea. All credit for the inspiration goes to them, please give the original story a read and support him/her as well.**_

 _ **Thanks for reading.**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_


	2. Chapter 2

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 _ **To explain the delay in this chapter. A server on Discord called 'Work in Progress' is responsible. It's horrible, truly. The rules are sometimes not even stated to you until you break one, the punishments are the same, the mods are biased in the extreme - one of them outright said to me 'I know how to deal with your kind to get rid of you' for example - and genuinely just ruined my writing mood at every point.**_

 _ **Several people were disruptive to conversations - yes, that's against the rules, no, they didn't get punished, yes, I got in trouble for asking them to leave me alone - and just as many were rude and intolerant of basically anything that I said.**_

 _ **I left the server, because it was hindering my ability to work, after I politely asked someone who had already insulted me and dragged me through the mud three times - got in trouble once of course and I got in trouble two other times - to leave me alone and stop interrupting a conversation I was having.**_

 _ **Delays on that end are gone now, I just needed to vent a bit, you know. Ignore a prattling asshole and a long note, if you will.**_

 _ **~ Twisted**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"It's not my call, just protocol." Shepard has said apologetically when they'd boarded, and the ODST had stepped off the shuttle to be greeted by six Marines assembled in what looked like a shuttle bay to him - or their equivalent, whoever 'they' were - armed with the same rifles the Commander had used gripped in the not-relaxed hold of soldiers, ready to snap up at the slightest provocation. "You have to surrender your arms and equipment, if you want to stay aboard. Or just your guns, and we'll put you in the brig until we reach the Citadel where you can get off."

"Is the Citadel acting in defense of Earth?" He asked simply, mirroring the Marine's grips on their rifles. Shepard grimaced, and that was enough answer for him, "I will disarm peacefully, Commander."

One of the soldiers collapsed their rifle down at his words, placing it on his back and drawing his sidearm instead, beckoning him forward with his disarmed hand and holding it out. Careful to hold it by the foregrip, the ODST handed the submachine gun over, and another trooper stepped forward to take his M6 himself, as well as a combat knife on his waist. The first soldier laid his weapon aside and closed with him, keeping his handgun pressed against a gap between the ODST's armor plates and patting him down.

The soldier asked him about pockets as he reached them, and the ODST answered frankly and honestly, until they were done and the soldier stepped back finally and nodded to Shepard, "Doesn't seem to be hiding anything, Ma'am. Permission to scan him with my 'Tool?"

"It's fine." He nodded when Shepard actually looked at him for permission, as though to offer a chance for him to back out now - or come clean, if he was hiding something - and the woman relayed her own command to the marine.

Once more, that sidearm pressed into his stomach between two armored plates, turned slightly to get an organ shot if he tried anything. The ODST was unconcerned, as he didn't intend to try anything and so had nothing to hide, and simply eyed the whirling orange thing on the soldier's arm curiously. Like a magnet-baton, he swept it along the ODST's arms and legs, beeping as it passed over his armor but not finding anything else. Finally, satisfied, the soldier stepped back and looked at the scan.

"Showing what looks like… Magazines or clips in the pockets, a cloth something in the chest-plate and solid armor elsewhere. Everything looks above-board, and in line with his answers to my questions, Ma'am." The Marine finally holstered, or more accurately collapsed the pistol and let it hang on a thigh, and nodded, speaking to John himself, "You will be detained and escorted to the armory under guard, where your arms, ammunition, and armor will be confiscated and thoroughly examined. Do you understand this and consent or do you act under duress?"

"I understand and consent."

"Your weapons, equipment, and armor will be thoroughly examined and throughout this process all rights to privacy and liberties to act and move will be temporarily null, including Human rights excepting war crimes and cruel or unusual punishments." The Marine continued while the Commander watched, arms crossed uncomfortably throughout the procedure. "Do you understand this and consent, or do you act under duress?"

"I understand and consent." He answered patiently, understanding this was all procedure. Military life, especially under wartime conditions, got one used to these kinds of procedural items.

"As per wartime conditions, upon being divested of items, you will be escorted under guard to our medical facility for a thorough examination. At that time, you will be scanned and checked for recent surgical procedures, blood will be taken, and all attempts to identify you will be made alongside attempts to ascertain if you have undergone aforementioned surgical procedures to instal monitoring equipment or explosives of any kind. Your medical report will be viewable by all High-Command officers, the President and the Council per treaty conditions, but otherwise classified per personal liberty and law following the conclusion of the investigation." The Marine rattled off mechanically, and though the ODST's brow raised a couple times - implanted explosives? - he understood the reasons by and large. "Do you understand this and consent, or do you act under duress?"

"I understand and consent."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Sir. My helmet has recorded all interaction which has gone over here, and is being broadcast to a locked data storage device on board this ship. Should you request it, a copy of it will be made available to you, as will my name, rank, and unit designation." The Marine explained, tapping his helmet at the 'recorded' part indicatively, but seeming to relax now that the worst was largely over. "Should you feel like any laws have been violated, you may report me to Commander Jane Shepard, Alliance Special Forces, or Admiral Steven Hackett, as highest standing Alliance officer, or associated sub-commanders as you wish. Do you understand this?"

"Yes, I understand this information." He spared Shepard a glance and nodded respectfully before the Marines formed up around him, eyes on him but otherwise relaxed, and he made to follow them.

Orbital Drop Shock Troopers were trained to be lethal, perceptive weapons, and so this rundown told the 'Trooper a lot more than he'd thought to glean so soon. Or, it implied things, at the very least. The biggest and most prominent being that this was the same kind of war as he feared, and the same kind he'd come from, but seemingly only in the onset of it. And a lot of things lead to that assumption.

The biggest was the new 'Primarch' that had ridden up with them, a replacement for the newly deceased one on Palaven. Which had been on fire last he'd seen, over a large part of it, and the system itself under heavy siege but still ostensibly the capital and they were fighting over it even though it was already lost. Which meant that they weren't yet properly compartmentalizing losses and withdrawing from losing fights.

The next was that the new 'Primarch' was needed for some gathering, to coordinate effective defensive and offensive measures against the Reapers. Which meant that until recently, the threat hadn't been present, or was a small enough one as to be disregarded. He wasn't sure which, and likely wouldn't be sure for some time without either asking or finding out elsewhere. But given the apparent lack of a coordinated combat line against these Reapers, compared to the contradictory _presence_ of some Council which sounded like and seemed like an inter-species diplomatic group given sending a _Human_ military craft and soldier to retrieving a Turian, it seemed an obvious conclusion to reach.

Which put this conflict on par in terms of destruction with the Covenant, given that _two_ homeworlds were under this kind of assault already and the destruction he'd literally seen scorched onto Palaven.

"How long has this war been ongoing?" He asked the Marines to confirm while he unstrapped his armor and laid it on a table in what was apparently the armory - laughably small as he felt it was.

"Three days, technically." One answered in the back, leaning tiredly on a table tucked against the wall to the left of the door he'd been escorted through from the command deck. Surprised, the Rookie rounded on the Marines in question, left in his upper chestplate and helmet but little else aside from the undersuit. They flinched, but only slightly, and she continued, "They, uh, the Reapers hit the Batarians harder about a week ago or so, and then pushed on to Earth and Palaven."

"A single week…" He shook his head disbelievingly, turning back to the table and unstrapping his chest piece to lay it on the table. Two homeworlds essentially lost from what he gathered, in a little over a week at best.

Once he'd finally stripped out of his armor, reaching up to run a hand along the brown stubble set on too-pale skin from so long in his armor or aboard ships and clad only in the bodysuit under his armor, he padded along behind the Marines into the elevator and down a level. Soldiers turned to look at him from the tables they sat at, eating their meals, and he ignored them as he was escorted by to the medical quarters adjoining.

Which was remarkably empty, he noted as the older woman there turned and stood, glancing to the leading Marine, "This is him?"

"Yes, Ma'am." The soldier answered, looking at him and nodding at a medical bed behind her meaningfully. The Rookie took the order, stepping past the doctor and sitting on the bed while she turned and pressed a button, the window into the cafeteria darkening until it had turned opaque enough to block vision. "Do you understand the protocol, Ma'am?"

"I am familiar enough, yes." She nodded, turning to smile good naturedly at him. "Are you going to be a problem, young man?"

"No, Ma'am." He answered clippedly, sitting still on the bed and trying to ignore the grating smell of the medical room - that annoying mix of cold metal, anesthetics and surgical cleanliness than always rubbed a soldier the wrong way. "I just want this through with so I can move on, Ma'am."

And getting through that was shaping up to require significantly more conversation than he'd prefer, which was typical of his luck he decided after a second. Given whatever frankly insane physics had brought him into this mess.

"Typical soldier, always rushing things." She clicked her tongue in amusement, looking at the Marines, "Two of you stand by the doors, the rest of you out. I can handle him, and law or not, I am going to at least show his privacy _some_ respect."

"Ma'am." The soldier turned, speaking to the others in a commanding voice, "Private Alvel, you and me are monitoring inside. Everyone else, standard pattern on the other side of the glass. Don't answer questions asked, you all know the protocol."

"Sir." They responded, all but a thin and wiry looking soldier filing out. The remaining two took a position to either side of the door, rifles resting across their chests.

"Now then," the doctor nodded, turning to him and offering her hand to shake, "I'm Doctor Chakwas, this ship's medical officer if you couldn't guess." He took the offered hand and shook it gently, the woman humming as she brought up another glowing device, "Now then, let's get underway, shall we?"

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Glad you could finally join us, son." The older man, face marred by a war long past judging from the set-in way the scars laid, said as he was ushered into the small room adjoining what had looked to be a strategic command room of some kind. "Shepard says you were cleared on all counts for suspicious materials, so you can consider your status as prisoner over, short and loose as that was. Given the situation everyone is in, I hope you can understand it."

"I do." He nodded, looking over the man's uniform and deciding he had to be of significant rank and came to attention, thankful for the loaned uniform he'd bean given after his checkup. "Lance-Corporal John Doe, reporting for duties, Sir."

"At ease, young man. You're not under my command, technically. I'm Admiral Hackett, Alliance Fifth Fleet. Or was, until recent events." He chuckled, looking at Shepard as the humor left his face, "He's military all right, you can see it in his eyes and the way he stands. But you're sure he's not Cerberus?"

"We didn't detect any radio equipment or explosives beyond what he told us were there, and those are military ones and not in enough quantity to do anything.-"

"And duds, now." He added, the two turning to look at him for more. "All of my squad were issued with basic explosives, standard for the operation we were supposed to be on. My detonator was destroyed."

"And his armor doesn't have shields of any kind, or monitoring devices that transmit to anything." Shepard concluded, shaking her head slowly and chuckling, and for the first time John actually looked at her.

She was as lithe as he'd guessed when she'd been wearing her armor, and threatening then as much as she was now even in the loose fitting crew uniform she was wearing now and such a small frame that someone less experienced would have doubted could really produce power. With a shock of shoulder-length red hair, and bright green eyes as well, over a kind of cocky but knowingly so smile that spoke to the idea that she knew she was the best fighter in the room on almost any occasion and took no shame in that. A thin scar stretched over her right brow, in line with the eyebrow itself as though aligned to it, and another sat on the opposite jawline. In his mind, the image merged with the sight of her mounting the massive Reaper abomination he'd given her his grenades for, and made the decision to _not_ fight her regardless of where he went next.

"Cerberus wouldn't have sent an operative crashing down like that onto a planet at war, particularly not without shields. Further, they'd have no reason to, they didn't know where we were headed." She continued, the admiral nodding his agreement as she spoke, the woman herself gesturing at his head, "He also didn't screen as having any control-implants we know of, or transmitters, and doesn't look to have cybernetics installed."

"What bothers me is his helmet." Hackett said after a moment, and John's confusion must have been evident on his face because the man chuckled and explained, "There's a lot of data storage space in your helmet, and frankly, we don't know what it's for. The video we pulled off it didn't occupy the same amount of space."

"And we had to physically make a way to get it off and converted into a basic format that we could view." Shepard added with a small grimace at the information, though that was even more steps towards confirming the Rookie's own suspicions. Impossible suspicions though they may be, he was fast running out of others. "Your formatting was entirely different from our own, and it didn't work for everything. We only managed what we did thanks to some… Unique assets on board the Normandy."

"Assets I don't know about or care to ask." Hackett agreed, nodding with that smile old men always had. Looking back to John, he continued, "We saw some interesting things in your helmet's video. The most interesting, to me and Anderson, was a massive purple craft we saw hanging over what an analyst denoted as the African coast. Would you care to explain what that was?"

"Yes, Sir." He answered crisply, "I was part of a large detachment of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers deployed to board that Covenant Carrier and capture a High Prophet, to the end of negotiating a ceasefire with the Covenant."

"Would you mind explaining what that is to us? I don't recognize the name 'Covenant, or that ship, and I certainly don't remember one landing in Africa." Hackett asked politely, or as politely as John had expected. Still, he nodded, and began to explain.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Hell of a story, that was, young man." Hackett said when he'd finally finished explaining the Covenant and the Human-Covenant war to him, in as much detail as he could manage. A process that felt like it had taken hours, but couldn't have been more than one. "Anyone else, they'd call you a liar and order Shepard to arrest you until we found out the truth. But given the frankly ludicrous amount of times Shepard has said something insane and been right, I will defer to her."

"I feel crazy saying it, but… I believe him." Shepard answered after a second, making a pinched face at the admission. Hackett gave her a look, no more than a raised brow and a tilt of his head, and the woman explained quickly, "As I said previously, Cerberus wouldn't have outfitted him this way, nor would the Reapers have, and neither could have known I would be on Menae. Not if they couldn't also destroy this ship right here and now."

"As insane as it really is," she continued, jerking her head at the ODST, "his story makes more sense than anything else I can come up with. And Liara has no idea who he is either, she said she'd look and message if she found anything out. You know how deep her information runs, even Cerberus wouldn't be able to hide this. Then there's that radiation we detected as well, and that has no explanation on either side either. His story, though… It does."

"Slipspace." Rookie said in agreement, "At least theoretically, I think, it explains the radiation." He was a soldier, though, and couldn't be entirely sure. That the radiation hadn't killed him outright was already straining what he knew about Slipspace travel in general, though maybe it being Covenant had something to say there.

"Then I'm classifying that information, beyond who either of you decide to share it with yourselves." Hackett said, sounding suddenly tired and shaking his head. "Dimension hopping super soldiers… What's next, a live Prothean? Maybe the Geth will come riding to our rescue with it, too. And you offered your help?"

"Per Winter Contingency, I'm reporting for defensive operations." Rookie shrugged, the shoulders of his crew uniform rustling quietly in an odd way. Or, odd for him at least, he supposed that it was normal for people not used to bodysuits and armor.

"Then I'm officially drafting you into the Alliance military under my own authority, and ordering you to standby for rank and order aboard the SSV Normandy SR-2, under direct command of Commander Jane Shepard." He said simply, the Rookie nodding and turning to the woman to snap a salute.

"And _I_ am giving you a skip promotion to Corporal." She said, smiling a wide and toothy grin that… Was kind of frightening, really. Almost vicious, and excited at the same time, in a way that sent a brief and small chill up the ODST's spine. "We'll get you a basic shield system installed on your armor as soon as we can, and sort out weaponry for you. Unless you want to use yours, in which case… I can try and get some Spectre resources on it?"

"Spectre?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, yeah, guess that wouldn't make sense to a... " She paused, looking at him and making a face, cocking a hip and putting a fist on it, "I'm going to _say_ foreigner here, Rookie, because I don't know what else to say, and you get what I mean. A 'foreigner' wouldn't know what a Spectre is."

"I'll leave you two to sort this out, then. Shepard, get to the meeting point, and find out what the Krogans and Salarians need. They're waiting on you." Hackett nodded with a sigh when she saluted, turning as the holographic display flickered out behind him.

"Let's get you settled in then, Rookie. I'll give you the grand tour, and find you a nice spot. Maybe the old Observation Deck? Maybe, yeah, maybe..." Shepard said shortly, losing herself in her own thoughts and turning and leading him out of the small communications room, talking over her shoulder at him, "Yeah, you can have the, uh, right side Observation Deck. Should be right."

"Hm." He nodded, glad to simply get to stay quiet finally. Nothing but talking, answering questions, for hours now. It was nice to just follow, finally, and do what he was told.

"Need to get you an Omni-Tool, too, and show you how to look stuff up on it…" She seemed to brighten suddenly when she saw the Turian, Garrus if he remembered right, round a corner with a small pad in his hands and a digital screen, "Ah, Garrus! Meet our newest crew-mate, Corporal John Doe."

"Wait, that's your actual name?" He sounded surprised, blinking weird, almost reptilian eyes at him. In an uncomfortable way, he looked like an Elite in some ways, but just different enough that the Rookie could calm himself and nod at the question, "Huh. I sense a story there, but I won't push for it. Welcome to the team, Rookie. I saw you out there, and I have to ask about the nickname, because no way in your hell are you actually a rookie at all this."

"Name stuck. Prefer it now." He shrugged, the Turian tilting its head while he mentally ordered him to leave it be, or maybe begged him. His mouth was aching from so much damn _talking_.

"I think he's worn out." Shepard said, patting him on the arm and smiling up at him, the woman herself a couple inches shorter than he was. Not that he let that change his opinion on her, he'd killed enough Brutes and Elites to know size didn't matter. "Hackett had a _lot_ of questions for our wayward space-traveler."

"You gonna explain that, or-"

"Making a brief for the ground team and anyone else critical that needs to be in the know." She gave him a look, scarred eyebrow raising questioningly, "That alright with you? They do kind of need to know who they're working with, after all, but if you have qualms..." He simply shrugged, and she blinked at him a couple times before sighing and looking at Garrus, "Okay, I don't think he cares."

"Alright, well, like I said, I guess. Welcome to the team." The Turian offered his hand, and John swallowed as he looked at it for a couple seconds. Those talons looked sharp, after all, but…

Shepard elbowed him in the side, and his hand came up to meet the Turian's, nodding respectfully as they shook while Garrus and Shepard chuckled and the woman grumbled, "Great, another antisocial weirdo, that's what we needed…"

"Anyways," she moved on when he looked at her, "Garrus, can you get an Omni-Tool sorted and meet me on Deck Four, up under engineering with it, and see if you can get his armor too? That's where I'm putting him up, until I find somewhere else to put him. That part I'll, uh, figure out later! Yeah."

"Anyways, yeah, do that for me?" The Turian chuckled, a sound that came from low in his chest and thrummed oddly, and she smiled, "Thanks, Garrus. You're the best alien buddy a girl could ever ask for."

"Isn't that how you talk to a pet…?"

"Come on, Rookie, let's get this grand tour underway." He nodded, and Garrus sighed like someone who had suffered for too long under weights without compare, and the Turian watched them leave before making his way into the large room behind them.

"So, that was the War Room, and this is the CIC, where I plot out our courage to objectives we've been issued or found, and combat orders are run if we end up in a fight or something. You know, war ship and all that." He nodded again, and she snorted a small laugh, "You don't talk much, do you?"

"Not if I can help it, no." He answered, shaking his head.

"I mean, it's fine, as long as you shoot straight and talk when you need to. And I know you do both, so…" She flailed her hands and shrugged, smiling almost dorkily, and he himself almost laughed at the ridiculous gesture. She seemed almost annoyed by that but shrugged a moment later and turned, like it didn't actually matter to her at all. "On with the tour!"

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **All Concerned :**_

 **I intend to address that soonish. Suffice to say for now, he had no context, and mainly meant** _ **on the ground**_ **the Reaper is massive. To be able to land and move that way is, actually, special even in the Halo universe.**

 _ **Jackalope :**_

 **When they can be, yeah. He did a lot of talking here and in last chapter, but trust me when I say that will not be the case terribly often.**


	3. Chapter 3

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His quarters, as loose as he was using that term right now, were nice enough by his standards. A small engineering sub-room - though the two engineers upstairs told him they never really _used_ the sub-room's backup systems since in most cases if they were needed it was because the shields or engines had overloaded and probably blown the ship in two - and he was quick to spend his first day aboard and not under guard modifying the space to his tastes, once he had permission to do so.

First was his cot, tucked into the back of the room against the wall that separated the area out from the lower sections of the gun battery beyond. Unlike the others, he chose not to keep his armor and weapons in the cargo-bay, and instead set a large, low crate with a large metal plate to serve as a sort of table top that his M7S and M6C were laid at the top of, against the wall until he started working on them. Beside the makeshift table, laid across two more small, waist-high crates like the ones used for the 'table', he had his armor laid out alongside several tools he'd requisitioned from Vega and Cortez to work on the armor, and integrate what he could into it to make himself a better force on the field.

"I can install a weak VI in the helmet's command suite, to monitor your ammunition and shields for you." Garrus offered, sitting on a stool next to the armor's crates, his helmet laid in front of him with the back section of armor removed and the inner workings exposed. "I know your suit does that already, except for the shield monitoring system."

"Sure." He nodded, the Turian's Omni-Tool lighting up while the alien set to work, fishing a small chip out of a compartment in his armor and working on identifying the wires to splice the VI in with while the Rookie finished up sealing the back of his armor up where they'd installed the shield generator itself and its power unit.

"You said the Covenant had shields, when you fought them in your, uh, dimension I guess is the word I'll use." The Turian asked, voice lower than normal and flanging slightly in what the 'Trooper assumed to be his nervous voice.

"Yes."

"But your ground forces didn't? It would have been slaughter..." He turned, raising his thin brow at the alien, and Garrus hummed low and deep in his chest and bowed his head, flanges quirking at the visual rebuke. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that. I just… With the war here, I wondered how similar yours was."

"Similar." He nodded, sighing after a second as a piece of armor clicked into place and running a thumb over it in thought. "Very similar. Picture Palaven, and put that image over every Turian world."

"Damn…"

"Yeah. Damn." The soldier grumbled, smiling sadly at a few particular images that brought on. Worlds burning, purple ships looming low over it and sending bursts of blue fire down onto them while burnt and broken hulks of UNSC defences and defending ships listed by or fell to the planet's surface far below and his ship flew away as fast as it could manage to do so.

He flinched when an alien hand settled on his shoulder, pulling away while Garrus leaned back and held his taloned hand up in a show of peace, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, you just... Zoned out for a minute there, staring at your armor. Are you all right?"

"Fine." He answered, going back to his work without another word, closing up the armor sections again and checking them over.

"I…" Garrus made that odd humming sound again, turning to work on his helmet and falling into silence at that respectfully for several minutes. After a while, he finally spoke again, "What was life like, back in your, you know, dimension?"

"Hard. We were at war, for a very long time." Civil war first, for a number of years, and then the Covenant came and all that mostly came to a stop.

The Innies weren't keen on weakening the UNSC's military power in the face of the Covenant, aside from a few more staunch and unflinching groups. Some rumors even said that Insurrectionist forces _assisted_ UNSC naval forces in engagements against the Covenant. John didn't put a lot of stock in those rumors, and wasn't with any squads long enough to be _convinced_ of them, but he had never cared regardless. They were terrorists, even if they were terrorists who knew not to push the entirety of the human race to extinction.

"I was born and we were fighting. Frontier rebels from the colonies, terrorists." John said finally, after a few more seconds of thought, trying to find a way to explain what he wanted to without having to get into it too much. "Bombings on the news when I was young, stolen ships from drydock."

"Spirits. And then the Covenant came… Just, Spirits take them." The Turian swore, working to seal up the back of his helmet now, finished with the VI interface he'd been integrating for him. "All done. I integrated it into your helmet's own suite, the VI will handle the electronics and display itself when you boot it up and your armor should power it. Ran it through the same power systems as the helmet used, after all."

He nodded, taking the helmet and checking the armored sections to reassure himself, nodding again after a moment, "Looks good."

"Glad to hear it, Rookie." The Turian nodded, putting his talons on his waist and stretching to adjust the armored carapace he wore. "Would hate to see you get shot because you don't have basic protection. Shepard would have a fit if that-"

A beep sounded from his wrist, and he chuckled dryly, "Speak of the dead and join them…" With a flick of a taloned finger, he nodded and looked to the 'Trooper, "Commander wants us both to get some rest, we're headed to Sur'Kesh for some kind of pickup. Should be there in the morning, and she needs to know if you're up for it. Includes a weapon loadout, apparently, unless you plan to carry yours."

"Not enough ammunition." He shook his head, grimacing and looking at the weapons. They'd done well against the Reaper forces, and he'd have liked to use them more. But without a reliable source of ammunition, they were as good as clubs after the next magazine was spent.

"I'll put in for a rifle for you, and a sidearm." Garrus offered, standing when he nodded appreciatively. "Get some rest, Rookie. I'll see you when we're headed ground-side. Hopefully we won't need to test that kinetic barrier just yet. But, ah, knowing the Commander..."

It would end up getting thoroughly tested, he was sure. She seemed the type to run into trouble at every turn, regardless of if there _were_ turns or not. He didn't say as much, though, and didn't think much on it further. Instead he wondered why the Turian seemed so intent on talking to him, he'd not seen the alien soldier work as hard at speaking to the other Alliance soldiers on board the small vessel.

With a shrug, the Shock Trooper eased onto the cot and settled in for some much needed rest.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"So, you're the one Jane was telling me about." The scaly, humpbacked creature asked a day and a half later as he and Garrus approached. It turned to the fully armored Commander with a small smirk and said, "Somehow, I thought he'd be bigger. Or have a quad that got into a room before him, from what you said he used to do."

"He knows?" The Rookie asked, looking away from the towering creature uncaringly and earning an almost derisive snort at the act.

"This is Urdnot Wrex, a representative of the Krogan's strongest clans, enough to almost represent the entire race, and a military commander involved in efforts to form a united front against the Reaper threat." Shepard answered crisply, nodding her head at the Krogan when it turned to look at her and growled almost threateningly. "And he's also a very, very old and trusted friend, John. I would step on a landmine if he said it wouldn't go off."

"It true you all dropped on top of your targets in little, metal pods?" The Krogan asked, scaly brow raising curiously when the small, black armored soldier simply gave him a nod in answer and stepped around him to head to the weapons locker. He chuckled, low in his chest and rumbling, and followed after the soldier as he went, asking, "How do you keep from, you know, splatting all over the ground or getting shot on the way down?"

"You cross your fingers and stop being a bitch." Rookie answered simply, pulling the Avenger in a slot labelled for him from the locker, expanding it and collapsing it a couple experimentally before nodding and laying it across the back of his hips to do the same with the Predator.

"What kind of soldier does something like that?" Wrex asked coyly, leaning against the weapon locker beside him while he fished out thermal clips and practiced reloading each weapon until he could do it quickly.

"A Helljumper." Rookie finally answered, the Krogan snorting and giving Shepard a look. The ODST turned to her once he was satisfied, nodded his head politely, and said, "I'm equipped as ordered, Ma'am. Are there any last-check protocols I need to observe before we deploy?"

"No. We're a specialist unit, maintaining strict protocols would hinder flexibility in between species and specialists from outside standard Alliance operating fields." She answered clippedly, "As long as you report a ready status, we can deploy you."

"Understood." The soldier responded shortly, turning to Wrex and meeting his eyes - or he thought he was, at least - through the visor and asking, "Do you need anything else, Urdnot Wrex?"

"Do I need…" Wrex came up short, blinked owlishly at the smaller warrior - not soldier, he knew now, this was a _warrior_ in the way he walked, talked and even now the straight way he stood - and then laughed loudly. Enough that several crewmen around the cargo area jumped and turned, a couple instinctively reaching for weaponry, but Wrex didn't care. Instead, he clapped the ODST on the arm roughly and smiled a wide, toothy smile, "You have a _quad_ , boy. No, _John_ , not boy. You have good taste in squadmates, Shepard, but I knew that already."

"Because she recruited me." Garrus joked, sliding a collapsed Viper rifle onto his back as he joined them. The Krogan choked on a low laugh, shaking his head, and the Turian waved a hand at the other alien dismissively and added, "Oh, I'm sorry. You were stroking your overblown Krogan ego again. My bad."

"You're barking up the wrong tree, Turian." The Krogan growled lowly, the Rookie walking away from them towards the craft without even glancing back. "Krogan Battlemaster armed to the teeth and an armored and armed Turian, looking about to brawl, and we don't get a _glance_. Heh, crazy bastard..."

"Knowing him?" The Turian chuckled, shaking his head, "You're probably not the scariest thing he's seen. Or maybe you're just not as scary as you think you are, old man Wrex." The Krogan shoved him gently, lumbering towards the shuttle, and the Turians laughter died in a small, surprised and undignified squawk, catching himself before he could call and growling, "Son of a bitch…"

The Krogan just laughed over his shoulder, climbing into the shuttle and settling in across from the Rookie and next to Shepard, eyeing him and scratching his jaw slowly in thought and smiling, "Let's see how you do when the bullets start flyin', eh?"

"I thought that this was supposed to be a simple pickup operation." The black-armored soldier remarked dryly, the others in the shuttle exchanging amused glances at the question. Sighing, the trooper crossed his arms and stretched, leaning his head back against the shuttle's metal wall to wait.

He was out like a light inside a minute.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"They won't let us land, Commander." The pilot said, crackling over the static into the sitting area. "They said we don't have clearance to land, and that we have to pull back to a set location until they confirm our clearance and the Dalatrass' orders."

"No, no Salarian games." Wrex snarled, standing and shuffling towards the door with a rumbling growl that vibrated in his chest enough that even where he sat the Rookie _swore_ he could feel it. Slamming a fist into the release button and barking a laugh, he called over his shoulder, "Let's see them stop a Krogan airdrop."

"Wrex, don't-" And then he was gone, stepping out of the open hatch and dropping out of sight. Swearing loudly, she turned to the other two in the shuttle and stood, "We're landing, everyone stay on guard but keep your weapons holstered. I don't want an incident, but we are _not_ leaving without those Krogan. Understood?"

"Ma'am." They both answered instantly, the woman nodding and ordering Cortez to land regardless of all of the Salarian's threats.

"Everyone stand down." Shepard barked loudly, striding out of the shuttle just before it touched down, stopping next to the Krogan warlord without a care in the world for the lasers dancing across their chests while Rookie and Garrus fanned out behind them. "We have permission to be here from the Dalatrass herself, so what's the hold up?"

"Commander, please, this authorization just came through a moment ago." The Salarian guard said, nervously standing in front of Wrex with his Predator levelled at the Krogan. Not that that meant they were safe, given the dancing red dots on their chests, ghosting over visors warningly so they'd see it. "The communications officer didn't even know yet! It was being sent to her when you were ordered away!"

"We are securing the Krogan females." Shepard said simply, resting a hand on Wrex's shoulder and giving him a look through the clear eye slots of her armor before she turned her gaze on the Salarian. "We don't want an incident to compromise an alliance against the Reapers."

At her words, the Krogan warlord backed down and relaxed, rumbling at the Salarian, "You're lucky that Commander Shepard is here, runt, or you'd be meat by now and I'd be on to get my females. With a full stomach, too, heh."

"Commander, you and your unit are free to move into the facility and retrieve the package." The Salarian, calm now that the perceived threat had been quelled, mostly ignored the warning growl the Krogan Warlord a few feet away from him let rumble out at that. Or pretended to, at least, John's eyes catching the slight turn towards the Krogan and twitch of the Salarian's long fingers in reaction. "There is one slight concern, however, Commander Shepard."

"I'd bet there is…" She sighed, shaking her head, but asking, "Fine then, what is it?"

"Your Krogan landed in a classified STG research facility without authorization or permission and threatened security personnelle on the premises. He must leave, or stay under heavy guard and disarmed." The Salarian said simply, Wrex snarling and thudding towards him as the red lasers once again flickered to life, this time painting his hump and forehead in spots of lethal red. The Salarian guard himself took a step back, hand hovering over his sidearm, and looked to the Commander when she stepped in front of the Krogan, "You must understand, Commander, your Krogan-"

"Not my Krogan." She interrupted, crossing her arms without a care even as a pair of lasers danced across her armor - one on her chest over her heart, the other the side of her head. "He's a dignitary, and authorized to be here. Do you really want to cause an incident because Salarian intelligence didn't expect us?"

Which would make it bad intelligence, he knew without her saying. Which meant that the 'STG', presumably an intelligence agency on behalf of the Salarian government, had failed to gather exactly that on their coming. Or they were simply impeding a dignitary from another government out of racial spite, which was just as bad a look to have painted on them at the best of times.

But this was war time, not the best of times to be making enemies. And Shepard knew how to play that, it seemed, just as much as the Salarian commander knew he couldn't afford either of those accusations reaching the public. It would be the end of his career at best, and his species at worst, if he compromised a chance at alliance now and the Reapers came to Sur'Kesh when they found out there was a significantly weaker opponent to take off the playing field.

"I… Very well," the Salarian sighed, waving a hand as the lasers flicked off and he relaxed, grimacing and shaking his horned head, "The Krogan may continue in, so long as he stays under control. You and he will be exposed to classified items, do not touch them, interact with them, ask about them-"

"I'm only here for my females." The Krogan huffed, rolling his shoulders and shifting his entire bulk in the movement, "I don't give a damn about your stupid experiments and secrets, Salarian. Just let us by already, I have giant monsters to kill for you squishy little scientists. Same old story, I'm sure you know it."

"Yes, quite well." The Salarian sighed, shaking his head and waving them in, "Please, this way, Major Kirrahe will-" he stopped, head turning to look out from the base and raising his fist as his Omni-Tool flared to life, "Say last back?"

"What's happening?" Shepard asked as they followed the Salarian inside and towards the back of the room where they saw an elevator. The alien didn't answer and, as they rounded the corner and the Salarian ordered the elevator called for them, Shepard grabbed his shoulder and slammed him against the wall by the elevator, "I asked what was going on, and I expect you to give me an answer."

"Human craft are closing, our interceptors are working to stop them from-"

The four soldiers knelt and leaned against the wall on instinct as the facility shook and thunder sounded the way they'd come from, some kinds of fighters shrieking by through the valley between the complex halves. A second later, rounds started lancing across the laboratory area and into the wall they leaned against and the unprotected one stretching out to the side from the landing pad they'd come from.

"They're at the landing pad, your shuttle got out as soon as the craft started to swing back around." The Salarian answered finally, gesturing at the elevator, "Go up that, you'll meet a scientists named Mordin Solus, and he'll escort you the rest of the way and assist you in your exit."

"Mordin…" Shepard shook her head, leaning against the wall by the Salarian who stood at the corner with the other three spaced out behind her and another Salarian guard with a Predator behind them. "What about you?"

"STG standard operating procedures, Commander." The Salarian answered, raising his heavy pistol while guards took positions in cover in front of the elevator entrance - and throughout the laboratory area, almost definitely, as well - and rounds lanced over their heads to carve lines in the concrete and paint the wall in greenish blood. "Have to escort surviving scientists to safety, destroy critical data, and that sort of thing. Regardless of risk."

He watched Shepard over his shoulder for a long second before she finally nodded and spoke, "Understood, and good hunting." Turning while he leaned out and fired a couple shots before a torrent of return fire forced him into cover, the woman spoke, "Wrex, Rookie, on my flanks when we come out that door. Vakarian, find a vantage point. Understood?"

"Ma'am." They all answered, even the Krogan among them grunting the words seemingly on reflex or instinct, filing into the elevator when it arrived and deposited two heavily armed and armored Salarians to join the fighting.

They emerged to a firefight, a Salarian with a larger looking hand cannon in one hand firing rounds at a distant corner and column alternatingly speaking over his shoulder while he typed at a console, "Commander. Good to have you here. Cerberus operatives struck lighter here. Killed scientists and guards, sent a couple more downstairs. Have two more pinned down, expect reinforcements soon however. Then need to move to control panel and bring the female up to the release area."

"Understood." She answered, looking over her shoulder, "Wrex, cover Mordin, everyone else with me. We're on offence, just direct us, Mordin."

"Would be helpful to have cover." The Salarian said, giving the mountain of armor known as Wrex a meaningful glance. "Can work faster with two hands. You understand."

The Krogan grunted, leaning over the computer while the Cerberus soldiers - apparently seeing the stop in fire - leaned out to fire rounds that bounced off the Krogan's armor or punched into softer flesh under that. The Krogan didn't seem to care, and the trio spread out around the narrow lab. Automatic fire poured down onto the Cerberus soldiers, ripping into one's chest and head and throwing it back before the other two got into cover.

"Fire and advance." Shepard called, her and the ODST taking turns walking forward under automatic fire that carved away at the corners of the cover the Cerberus fighters were using before swapping to reload and advance themselves.

"Target sighted." Garrus warned, firing a shot that ripped apart the corner of the column near the base, a splash of bright red blood coloring the floor before the operative collapsed with a gurgling scream as his leg gave out. The Viper barked again and his head exploded in a corona of blood and bone, and Garrus spoke again, "Target down."

Shepard was the one to reach the cover, the soldier coming around with a knife in his hand and one of their rifles in the other, slashing for the Commander. She leaned back, Avenger sending rounds into his stomach at less than a foot of distance and throwing him back, white armor shading red as his knife dropped and he stumbled away. His legs caught on his headless ally and he fell with a flail and rounds that ripped into the concrete and circuitry around them, wheezing in pain before another burst ripped through his helmet and Shepard barked an order to move over her shoulder.

"Mordin is on the cargo elevator and moving it through checkpoints, we need to clear out the upper levels for him." Shepard ordered as they moved through the laboratory, the Turian watching the opposite levels carefully as they went.

"Snipers!" Garrus shouted, rifle snapping up and his body squaring to fire.

The warning came too late, John turning on instinct at the alien's movement in the corner of his eye and something else he could barely catch just before something heavy slammed into his chest armor and tossed him against the railing behind him hard enough to bend the metal and almost throw him over the edge to fall back to the floor below before Shepard's hand grabbed the front if his armor and _hauled_ him back and threw him to the floor.

A better place than standing in a firing zone, he knew, staying there while the woman supported Garrus' counter-shooting. A moment later it was over, and she helped him up and gave him a once over, "No blood. Are you alright?"

He nodded, and she turned without another word, "Move, people. Waypoint on the ancillary lab around the corner, Mordin will open it on his end when he reached the next checkpoint."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **I am learning how to write scenes like this, advice and critique would be appreciated.**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Predator 1701 :**_

 **He really, really doesn't.**

 _ **Jackalope :**_

 **Wasn't Grunt, but he's a bookmark for the species, I'm sure. I feel Grunt would want to try it out, though.**


	4. Chapter 4

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_**Official Supporters:**_

 _ **Grand Priestess, Luna Haile - "That's meeeeee~!" ~ Mika**_

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 _ **Priest, The Impossible Muffin**_

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 _ **If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our discord. Server for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, and remember to post a Review/Comment to let me know what you liked and didn't.**_

 _ **So, Fanfiction will not let me link to discord. So, I apologize to every single FF reader for this, but please PM me for a join link. And please consider doing so, I enjoy chatting with you lot. On AO3, the link is viable :**_ _ **/2UZncAm**_

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 _ **D iscord . gg (slash) kfhkfUb**_

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 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **As a quick note, my X-Box is lost somewhere and I could not find a bloody map of the maps in the game, so if anyone has a proposed solution to these issues, please offer it if possible. As such, however, sections of the map will likely fail to be featured or will be shown out of order.**_

 _ **I apologise sincerely for this issue. If no solution is found, I will use the Mass Effect wikipedia's synopsis as best I can and simply adapt to the missions as I go along. Which will be fine, really, since this is more a character study story than a rehash of Mass Effect 3 'but with an ODST now'.**_

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The once-sealed door whirred quietly, the sound almost lost in the surrounding sounds of gunfire, and the red light blinked first to yellow for a briefest moment before flashing green to admit them through. John had expected to go first through it, or Shepard to at least, but instead Wrex went roaring through the door just ahead of him, and with blue energy coalescing across his body and rippling out as he charged and a fist came back and then swung forward like he would slug a man in a brawl or back in training.

The blue, electrical energy shot forward like a cannonball, catching a trooper in the side of his chest and hurling him back and into a wall ten feet from where he'd started. He fell limply, leaving blood smeared across the wall behind him in bright crimsons, and the Rookie's rifle put a burst through his fellow's unshielded head as he turned to fire on them. The last in the trio on the ground, a Centurion, turned and flinched back under his and Shepard's combined fire before his shields sparked out and the rounds cracked across his armor until Wrex' massive looking shotgun roared and ripped the poor soldier's leg off. Another loud report and he was dead, the Krogan huffing almost boredly.

The room was a lab, with dead Salarian guards and scientists both, and what looked like reptilian dogs at the base, riddled with holes and laying in a pool of their own blood where the Cerberus soldiers had cut them down. Several tables along the lower part of the room had been overturned, a Salarian corpse in light armor bent backwards over one and the other blown in pieces and scorched black. But, luckily, the Salarian soldiers had done their jobs and the most heavily armored of the troopers, who seemed to have been sporting actual physical shields, had themselves been cut down and laid between the two tables.

Shepard stopped by one of the unarmored Salarians, a scientist if he had to guess, who had died bleeding against a wall beside a computer interface with a small pistol beside him. "They fought with everything they had rather than retreat…" She spared a glance to the computer and then the rows of cells, some still containing snarling Varren, and added, "They released them on the Cerberus operatives, and what Varren _did_ get out tore them apart.."

"Not this one." John called from the fallen table, a regular trooper lying dead behind it and riddled with small holes that spoke of equally small rounds. And a lot of them.

Blood had been splattered across the table as he was shot, small spatters intermittent where rounds had managed to pierce the soldier's back. Directly from where he'd hit the table and fallen down its tilted surface to lay on the round, he saw the same scientist who had worked to release the Varren according to the Commander. Then he looked up, to a railway above that had been broken and bent out by something, directly above the fallen Cerberus soldier. Under his own boots where he stood above the soldier, he saw scorch marks, and the bottoms of the Cerberus boots sported small holes themselves covered in scorches.

The Salarians were fighting off an attack from above, and the scientist started releasing Varren and forcing them to move. The Cerberus troopers troopers cut through the guard to jump down while some others moved for the stairs and fought the Varren and Salarians both. The scientist and the guards fought on and the scientist died releasing as many Varren as he could and gunning down the trooper.

Impressive and admirable.

At a barked order from the commander, they formed up into twos, the ODST following at the Krogan's shoulder towards a door on the second level of the lab. They each took one side of it, Garrus behind the alien warlord and Shepard behind him They could all hear muted gunfire on the other side, and at a signal from the Human Commander the Krogan reached out to hit the holo-button on the door, his own Omni-Tool lighting up for a moment to order it open.

It swung open and the 'Trooper swung around the corner with his rifle at the ready, in time to see a shuttle swing into place with Cerberus Troopers aboard, flanking a trio of Salarian guards and cutting them down with automatic fire before they could do more than scramble for cover or to fire back. His rifle and Shepard's came up, rounds barking forth, but the shuttle pulled away before he could confirm any hits on the Cerberus soldiers.

At the corner, Shepard leaned as far out as she dared to get a look ahead of them, "Cerberus soldiers are trying to find a way to breach the pod and get at the female Krogan. We have to be fast and precise."

A round shattered the concrete she was leaning against, sparks and chips of stone flying from it and the rounds to follow. Only a couple rifle's worth, he wagered, and likely because they didn't know what was behind the wall. Shepard concurred, it seemed, rushing to issue orders to them.

"Rookie, flank left through the technical offices and stay low. Wrex, far right, rush through the open and focus your biotics on defense. Not offense. Garrus, here, marksman role while I move through the light cover between Wrex and Rookie." She didn't wait for their confirmation, though, knowing that they would obey and had no reason not to hear her orders.

And spurred on by the rounds no doubt ripping into the barriers protecting the female or Mordin, if they were even separate.

The two soldiers surged out, Wrex with a roar of defiance and a sort of joy, and the Rookie joined Garrus on the corner and waited a moment with the Turian's claw outstretched until he murmured just loud enough for him to hear, "Go as soon as you're ready. Don't worry about a thing while you get to that corner, I have my rifle on your approach. Focus on moving, low and fast."

"All right." He said, sinking to a knee and taking a deep and long breath before _launching_ around the corner and into a run like he had so many times.

Half-crouched, hunched over, eyes raking in every inch of the terrain inside the first few steps. He saw Wrex raise his fists over a Centurion and bring the down with a roar and sipple of biotic power, crunching the man under the weight and power of his blow. Shepard, rising from cover a few feet away from the Krogan warlord and pouring rounds into another Centurion until his shields sparked and he dove for cover as two Troopers behind him rose to suppress her.

He slid into cover behind one of the upturned and ruined desks ahead of the small technical suites, ensconced under small open-air cells, to catch his breath and double check his approach over the relatively open couple of feet to his objective. Peeking out of the cover, he saw a Cerberus trooper spot him and step out of cover to fire, kneeling a dozen feet from him behind a crumbling and bullet-ridden concrete planter. The man's head exploded in a shower of ceramic, metal and red viscera, and the shock trooper blinked at the sudden death, almost surprised.

Almost, but not quite, given Garrus' proficiency and _efficiency_.

He stood and resumed his run, ducking into the first of four of the small work-suites and moving through them carefully and quickly. Between the second and third work-suites, he caught sight of Shepard behind cover, heavy automatic fire pouring over her and Wrex both. Enough to force even the Korgan warlord into cover, almost on his hands and knees to shield himself and his exorbitant size from the rounds. Shepard saw him with the odd console behind him, and for a moment their eyes met through their visors before he moved on into the next work-suite.

At the next gap, when he peeked, he saw the sides of four soldiers using the concrete planters, ruined desks and equipment as cover to fire at his squad. A lighter armored man sat on the ground beside them, leaning against their cover and typing at a display on his Omni-Tool. Directly over his head, as though responding to his commands, the small turret that sat squat in the soil of the planter turned and fired away. Each flick of his fingers and press of an apparent button on the display. His grip adjusted on his weapon and he almost fired on them then and there.

Instead, he slipped past them into the next work-suite, moving to the next corner and peeking around it. Two more Cerberus troopers, of the thankfully unshielded variety, kneeling and firing away at the kinetic barrier protecting the Salarian doctor and the Krogan female. Slowly, he approached their backs, until he was only a couple feet away and raised his rifle level with the furthest one's back. Square between his shoulders and just under his neck, the perfect spot.

Two long bursts of five rounds each ripped into their backs and they fell, one soundlessly and the other with a scream of pain and surprise. Rising before the last had stilled, his sight found the lightly armored soldier's chest and he sent another burst into it, and then a second when he saw the spark of shields. He half-rose before his shields fell and rounds ripped into his chest and then another, higher caliber one ripped into his back and spun him around.

His corpse fell as the Rookie turned his sights on the next trooper, turning towards him and opening up on him as the Centurion behind him did the same. He watched his ammo counter lower into the single digits and the trooper fell and cycled to firing the rifle at the next as Wrex and Shepard both rose behind them. Garrus, far away, fired a round into the Centurion's back as his own shields sparked and died and he felt rounds punch into his armor and started to duck.

He reloaded the Avenger and looked up to see one of the duo of Troopers from earlier on the ground, leveling his compact weapon at his chest, and he swore as his Avenger snapped up instinctively.

The automatic fire ripped into each of their chests, some sparking off armor, but Rookie _felt_ several rounds punch into his abdomen and fell back. Grunting, he pressed a hand to the flares of pain, and when it came back red he sighed and pressed it back against the flares the act sent up and collapsed his weapon. Drawing his Predator instead, and waiting on his shields to rise, he stood and swept it across the line of now very dead Cerberus soldiers.

"Status?" Shepard demanded again as they closed, mask alighting on his wound, "You're hit. How bad?"

"Normal, Ma'am." He answered, keeping his hand there and glancing to the Salarian for a moment before speaking, "Mission status?"

"Garrus, get over here, I need you to administer Medi-Gel and field trauma care." She said instead, collapsing her rifle and setting it on her back. Her hand landed on his shoulder, pushing him down, but he needed the order, "Sit, soldier, you're wounded. Garrus will tend to you and keep you safe while Wrex and I head up top and finish the operation. Understood?"

"Negative." He said quietly, trying to rise as the Turian too joined them and knelt, a hand on his chest following his forearm to the wound. He spared the alien a glance and then looked back to the Commander, "The wounds are negligible, I can still fight, Commander. Just give me the Medi-Gel and let us continue the mission."

"Negative." She responded, rising and looking down on him, "You're a Systems Alliance soldier, now, and I am ordering you to stand down and receive medical treatment. Do you understand these orders?"

"..."

"John, please. Do you understand your orders?" She asked, her voice less stiff now, almost the way she was on the ship. Finally, after another long and tense second, he sighed and nodded, and she turned to Wrex. "Wrex, on me. Garrus, you have your orders, get him dealt with and then I'll send for you and him both. Copy?"

"Clear, Shepard." The alien nodded, looking to him next and asking, "How do I get the chestplate off, Rookie?"

Sighing, the soldier went through the process of helping the Turian get the armor off to get at his wounds. Distantly, as the Turian went about the process of cleaning his wound and applying the medical kit he'd produced from an armored compartment in his armor. Several times, the alien asked if he was in pain and offered numbing agents, and several times the ODST told him he was fine.

He was more than used to getting shot, it was the questions that got on his nerves.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"He'll be fine, Commander." Chakwas said a couple of hours later, Mordin working on a terminal nearby with Wrex leaning on the wall next to it and eyeing him. The shirtless and bandaged soldier made to stand and the old doctor rounded on him, " _If_ he stays in bed, that is. I nearly had to put him under simply to keep him in bed while I did the surgery."

"John…" Shepard sighed, arms crossed and body language _reeking_ of disapproval. Arms crossed under her modest bust, hip cocked and brow raised questioningly. "You didn't?"

"I am fine." He sighed, relaxing against the bed by sheer force of will and little else. He didn't need to be there, he knew that, but he also knew people like Shepard. She'd keep him there until he was _approved_ to leave, regardless of his opinions on the matter. "I'm sorry for my failure in the mission, Ma'am."

"What failure?" She asked, sounding genuinely confused. He didn't answer, simply looking down at his stomach and back to her without a word. Sighing, she turned to Wrex and almost sounded like she was about to laugh when she said, "He actually thinks getting _shot_ on my orders is a failure, Wrexy. You believe that?"

"Must be an idiot then." The Krogan snorted, shaking his great head and barking a laugh. Speaking to him directly, he explained in a patronizing and very amused sounding voice, "Getting shot isn't a mistake, dumbass. You had a job to do, and getting shot was part of doing it. You saved the female, little Pyjak."

"Just did your job, Rookie. S'all you did, and I will not hear anything else on it unless _you_ want to stay in here extra long." Shepard sing-songed, her mood seeming to return to her now. Nodding, he accepted her words, and she kept on speaking in that same singing tone, smiling widely all the while, "Now, chef's serving barbecue, and I'm bringin' you some sammiches, so. How many you want to eat?"

"Three." He answered, the woman making a clicking noise with her tongue. Almost disappointedly, he noted as she turned and walked from the room.

"You know, John." Wrex started, lumbering towards him until the massive lizard loomed over him, red eyes searching his face for fear or something else. Whatever it was, he didn't find it, and the Krogan gently clapped him on the shoulder and smiled, "I think I've settled on 'crazy' as being what you are to drop in those little, metal pods the way you did."

"Shoo, away from my patient." Chakwas chided, waving the literal warlord away and drawing a rumbling chuckle from him for it. Turning to the soldier, she smiled politely and asked, "Now, mental check, straight from the brass… How are you coping with all of this? Your… Situation, as it were, I mean."

"My…" Ah, his coming to this universe. That was what she meant, he realized as his throat went dry. Shaking the sudden panic off, he looked at her and simply said, "I am fine, Ma'am."

"Are you sure?" She asked quietly, putting herself between the busy Krogan and Salarian, laying a hand on his arm comfortingly. "I'm a doctor, John, and I have served onboard Navy vessels for decades. Soldiers aren't 'fine' when they get shot at. You… Did significantly more than just get shot at."

"I am fine. I have a duty to do." He said simply, the woman making a face of old patience borne from years and years of service in the medical field. Sighing, he shook his head and added, "Please, Ma'am, I have a job to do."

"So do I." She agreed, smiling at him as politely as only a medical professional could manage, "I will let you rest for now, but as the medical officer on board this vessel, I will be calling you in for conversations to ensure that your mental state stays above board."

"Understood." Even if he disliked it, such was the protocol. Nodding, she turned and set to work, leaving him to sleep or stare at the ceiling.

He chose the former.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Sorry for this short chapter, that sodding fight scene was… Ugh.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

_**Official Supporters:**_

 _ **Grand Priestess, Luna Haile - "That's meeeeee~!" ~ Mika**_

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 _ **Initiate, Gentleman Mad**_

 _ **Infiltrator, Voltegeist**_

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The rest of his day passed in the bored and aggravating semi-silence of a medical ward, machines around him making their assorted beeps and whirrs as they carried out their functions. All sounds that he was familiar with, from long days and weeks in similar rooms aboard UNSC medical ships and even stations if the injuries called for more intensive treatment to get him back into acceptable fighting condition faster. Normally, that meant surgeries, stimulants to encourage healing, or in some cases he heard of cybernetics being employed on special forces units to get them back against the Covenant sooner. A sad consequence of the war, even if he understood it.

And he had expected the same here, to have treatment pushed through and rushed so that he could be deployed against the Reapers as soon as possible.

But when Chakwas came in the next day to set to her work, to his surprise, nothing was done to him. She's checked his bandages, then the machines around him that monitored his condition, and asked how he was. He'd shrugged and she'd nodded, and simply sat down at her console and set to whatever facet of her job she was working on right now. He was simply left be, to heal on his own time and without any intervention from the Normandy crew at all, listening to the idle noises of the medical bay around him and the mess area outside.

"Doctor Chakwas," he finally started after hours of bored silence, the woman turning to him slightly with a questioning hum, "are you not going to attempt to treat me, so I may be deployed sooner?"

"You _have_ been treated, John. Your wounds were properly cleaned, stitched and bandaged, and you haven't expressed any complaints of undue pain. Now you're on bed rest, while your wounds heal." She said simply, turning and nodding a curt greeting as the Salarian doctor, Mordin came in and moved to his own terminal to set to his work there. Turning back to him, she continued in a lower, "Tell me, what would your 'UNSC' do about this kind of injury?"

"Standard treatment procedures include a range of stimulants to speed healing and cybernetic replacements for wounded soldiers to speed them back onto the battlefield where they are needed, accounting for soldier class and skill in the dissemination of the materials for both." He answered mechanically, old protocol rolling off his lips in the same kind of reaction as being asked to identify himself.

"Even though such measures aren't warranted? In your case at least they aren't, but what you are saying implies you _would_ be put through these measures." She sounded surprised, and it showed on her face as well.

Brows rising almost to her hairline and mouth gaping in a small 'o' of surprise. On the holographic display, her hands stilled, and when he looked slightly closer he saw she's stopped in mid-sentence. So extreme treatment methodology for wartime use was something they hadn't considered here, then. Seemingly so much so as to be something that hadn't even been _considered_ by the Alliance at the least.

Interesting, and foolish as well, given the current situation he found the galaxy in.

"In the…" He spared Mordin a look, the alien's head turning slightly and eyes landing on him for a moment before he smiled and turned fully to them.

"Know about you already. STG forwarded me multiple dossiers on persons aboard Normandy last night. Perused before coming in today. Like to syan informed." An inhalation of air, either to breathe or simply to force a pause in his speech the Trooper couldn't tell, but he moved on a moment later with his hands clasped in front of him. "If it helps, I did not read any personal details or suppositions forwarded to me."

"Personal details?" He asked quietly, head tilting to the side as he looked over the Salarian in a context that wasn't bordering on violence.

Stiff, but the Salarian's eyes were soft and he smiled gently. Hunched as well, but he couldn't tell if it was biology or not, since he only had two examples including the doctor of the Salarians simply standing around. Rather than occupying cover or getting shot at, that is. A 'horn', he didn't know what it was technically called, was missing and his face scarred as well.

A soldier, then, of some kind.

"Salarian STG agents found out about you shortly after you were encountered. Set to work finding out who you were. Understandable, considering the ship you are on and its history." Shepard, he meant, and the things the Normandy had gotten into over the last four years or so. "When lack of records were found, agents… Accessed Alliance network servers and found it there. Or rather, who you really are."

"Understandable, given the situation." Still, his hand curled into a fist beside him at the thought of an alien agency of some kind having access to human networks like that. A breach like that in the Human-Covenant war and Earth would have been a ball of glass inside a month.

"See you are tense. No threat is there, I assure you. Special Tasks Group gathered the information they needed and plugged holes in server security." He smiled pleasantly at the bed-ridden, albeit begrudgingly, soldier. "Then STG agents planted information in key personnel's offices and accounts to see the holes more thoroughly dealt with."

"Hm." He shrugged, satisfied as he could hope to be by the answers, and turned to the human doctor. "The nature of the Human-Covenant war meant that supplies were strained. As well, soldiers not on the field fighting meant lost ground and dead civilians. Marines were expected to shoulder on most injuries, unless a limb was non-functioning."

"And I suppose that was the same for your unit?" She sounded displeased, but the curiosity there was genuine as well. An honest question, then, even if she was almost definitely not going to enjoy his answers.

"No, Ma'am." He answered simply, "If an ODST's firing arm was crippled, he was expected to shoulder the weapon on the other side and muscle through it. We were trained for it, and issued nerve-deadening agents to assist with it."

"That… That's paramount to ordered self-harm. Suicide, even. What manner of doctors would even _design_ such a drug?" She asked, sounding shocked now. He spared a glance to the Salarian curiously, and he too looked shocked at the information.

"The kind whose worlds had burned, along with billions of people." He answered frankly with a shrug. The woman blinked, actually staggering a step back, before her eyes softened and she smiled weakly. A face etched in emotion he knew well enough, and emotion that he despised more than any other.

 _Pity_.

The word caused his teeth to grind as she spoke, voice soft and weak, "I-I am so sorry, that you had to-"

"Don't apologize for what you didn't do." He growled, more animosity than he meant to show coming through in the words. But he couldn't force himself to care right now, blood roaring as he added bitterly, "Suicide missions were common enough. You can't go out to fight what we did and believe you're coming back."

"How do you even begin to handle that?" Chakwas asked, watching him closely for… Something. He didn't know what, though, and didn't care enough to think about it. It wasn't his job.

"We managed it." He shrugged simply, avoiding her eyes and adding in a quieter voice, "Your soldiers will start doing the same, soon. And your command will start ordering them out to die in droves, just like mine did."

"How can you know that?" Chakwas asked simply and quietly, again watching him for something he couldn't place.

"Human nature is to knock the teeth out of what's killing you, not run from it when you know it won't matter." He answered simply, gesturing at the expanses of skin not covered by the medical blanket or bandages and instead covered by scars.

The rest he let her fill in herself, and after a second of silence she spoke, "I see. Thank you for your candor, Mister Doe. I will see the notes for this made available to you and command staff both." She smiled, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously, which prompted her to explain, "This was the first of our little conversations, John. Impromptu, to get a cold water gauge on how you answer questions off the cuff, as it were."

"You could have informed me."

"Standard psychological vetting technique." Mordin called, turning back to the console he was working at before as he did. "Cold-water testing allows the tester to gauge standard personal responses. If warned, you would answer in ways that were non-compromising to you. Subconsciously or not."

"Hm." He grunted, shrugging after a second and returning to staring at a spot on the wall he'd found a while back.

The tactics they'd used tasted a bit too 'spook' for his tastes, but given some of the jobs he'd run in the past himself, he wasn't really one to talk. Noot without a few dozen more doses of hypocrisy than he was necessarily prepared to put himself through. Especially given that the answers he'd given were already on record and he couldn't do more than argue the principle of the matter. And lose, he knew, to two medical professionals in a universe whose rules and principles he didn't know.

Besides, that would have been _another_ conversation, and he was already exhausted of talking so damn much.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

The rest of the day passed quietly, thankfully, until Chakwas stretched and stood, giving him a look and waving a hand at his bed, "I'm retiring for the evening. There is a button on your bed's side that will send a request to me for attention if you need anything. I hope you enjoy your evening."

He nodded, watching her turn and walk from the room with the Salarian doctor behind her, and sighed as the lights dimmed and the windows darkened. Presumably so he could rest without the bright glare of the fluorescents beating down on his face the entire time. A good idea, if that was the intent behind it, but just as likely was that it was meant to simulate the ship's schedule and force him to keep it even while idling. Still a good idea, he knew, just a bit less charitable than the first one.

Regardless, it meant quiet time that he could just enjoy, possibly time he could devote to researching the Systems Alliance and seeing what they were truly about and how they ran, or maybe even a nice, solid nap. He loved his-

"Good evening, sick baaaay~!" He sighed as the door opened and Shepard bounced in, grinning from ear to ear with a long-suffering looking Garrus behind her, his face in his hands while his talons ran along his jaw tiredly. Seeing neither give the reaction she'd desired, whatever it was, she sighed and rolled her eyes, "God, you guys are a tough crowd. Here I was being funny."

"No, it was hilarious, Jane. Absolutely the most humorous thing you could have said. Promise, don't let us not wheezing on the floor trick you into thinking for even a second that you aren't the funniest thing on the ship." Garrus deadpanned, stepping past her while she glared petulant daggers at his armored back as he went. He stopped at the foot of the Trooper's bed and gave him a nod, "How are you doing, Rook?"

His chest was sore, his head ached from the bright lights, and he was aggravated to be made to stay here when he had a kit to see to repairing and weaponry to see about customizing if he could. "I'm fine. Just want to get to work."

"On?" Shepard asked, the uniformed commander plopping down at the foot of his bed, nudging him to the side so she could stretch her legs out beside him, her toes almost touching his shoulder.

"Shepard…" Garrus sighed, giving her a sideways look, spiny and alien brow raising chidingly at her.

"What? He got shot in the chest, not the legs or his arm or nothin'." She poked his shoulder with a shoe and he rolled his eyes, giving her another half-inch of space without a word. "See? He's fine, he'd say somethin' if I was botherin' him. Don't be such a Turian about stuff all the time, Garrus."

"I kind of _am_ a Turian, Jane." He sighed, giving the other human a look and waving a hand at her, "Does that count as racist? I kind of think it counts as racist, to tell someone not to be 'Turian'. Am I crazy?"

He simply shrugged and she laughed, reaching over her shoulder to punch the Turian in the hip, "Garrus, you don't get to ask if you're crazy. Didn't you go to a crime-station and piss off every gang on it once?" He groaned, looking toward the ceiling and shaking his head slowly, and she turned a mirthful gaze on the shock trooper instead, "He did, you know. Pissed off every gang there, and their mercenaries too. Why, if it wasn't for little old me, I don't know _what_ would have happened."

"I'd have kept my pretty face intact?" He tried, gesturing at the ugly scar that marred the side of his face. The Turian saw him looking and sighed before he explained, "Okay, before _she_ says anything, I may or may not have… Kind of… Gotten shot in the face with a missile, on Omega. A little bit."

"Oh he totally got blasted, Rook." Shepard made a blooming motion with her hands, smiling good naturedly, and mimicked the sound of an explosion like a child might. "He couldn't laugh straight for like, two months after that. Not without popping any stitches, at least. Must have been hard to manage around my comedic genius, eh, Garrus?"

"Somehow, I managed. I don't know how. Maybe the Spirits saw fit to bless me with self control for a while." He remarked dryly, the woman rolling her bright eyes and shaking her head. Grinning, he added, "Jokes like yours ought to be weaponized, though, Shepard. Maybe you could _laugh_ the Reapers to death."

"I'll send a message to Hackett, see what he says of your plan, Garrus." She held her hands up, fingers like a picture frame and smiling at the bedded soldier, "'Laughter Cures Reaper War.' Sounds good, eh, Rook?"

"Not really." He grunted quietly, laying his arms across his wounded chest. He was on a ship commanded by a crazy woman… Wonderful. "Commander, may I be-"

"Nope." She interrupted before he could actually ask, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "Chakwas says you're staying right her in the medbay, and on an Alliance ship the head medical officer outranks everyone else. So no askin' mommy for something when daddy already said no, okay, sweetie?"

"Wait, are _you_ the mom there?" Garrus asked quietly, sounding confused. "Because, uh, you don't seem exactly the 'maternal' type."

"Hey, I have a whole bunch of little 'uns, young man." She chided, wagging a finger up at the taller Turian warningly. "Between you, Miri, Jack and God almighty, _Kasumi_ , I have adopted every troublemaker this side of the galaxy. Or feels like it at least. So yeah, I'm the mom."

"And _Chakwas_ is the dad?" The Turian chuckled, the sound clicking in his throat almost threateningly. Shepard nodded and the Turian clicked his tongue - or _something_ in his jaw, at least - and snorted a laugh, "I don't see how she's the _dad_ but you're the _mom_ , Shepard. You'll have to explain that one to me."

"You don't do anything that I tell you even half the time, but Chakwas can ground you easily enough. And when Chakwas says to do something, everyone on this ship does it. Now don't they?" Shepard explained simply, pointing at her own chest, "That makes me the mom, good natured and indulgent, and Chakwas is the dad with the belt over his knee. Follow me?"

"Yeah, yeah, alright, Momma Jane." The Turian laughed when she turned a glare on him, dodging out of the way when she tried to whack him, and looked at the ODST with a Turian smile on his face. "I hope you don't mind, but while you were in here I patched the hole in your under-suit. The damage wasn't that bad, but I wanted to make sure it was still sealed. The actual armor was fine, though."

"Thanks." He was used to others patching up his suit for him, even if he wasn't used to aliens doing it.

"Hey, we get that it's weird for you, working with aliens. But… Thanks." Shepard said quietly, suddenly serious, as she nudged his shoulder again and offered a small smile. "You're trying, trying really hard, to not let it get to you. And I can tell you have to try."

"It's hard to see, but easy enough to catch if someone watches you for a few minutes when I'm not around." Garrus explained easily, gesturing at John himself like he was proof of what the Turian was saying. "Whenever I'm around, you tense a bit. Not much, but… Just a bit. You do it when any alien gets close to you. You walk a little straighter, like you're expecting them to do something."

"Sorry." And he meant it enough, too, surprisingly. "I don't mean to."

"We know, that's why we're… You know, hanging out." Shepard explained with a shrug, smiling all the while. Like this was normal for her, or she was amused by it, he couldn't tell really. A strange woman, able to take all of _this_ in stride and smiling the way she had been since he met her.

Though now she seemed off, somehow. Anxious as she spoke, her smile slipping so slightly he almost didn't notice it. "Way I figure it, if you spend enough time around aliens, friendly ones, then maybe you… Start to trust them. I-I know that it'll always be, you know… Hard. But…"

"You trusted me to watch your back on Sur'Kesh." Garrus pointed out, as much for the suddenly anxious woman as for the trooper himself. He made a face and sighed, shrugging his broad alien shoulders, "I mean, that ended up with you getting shot, though, so… Maybe I could pick a better example. But I like to think it at least shows you're willing to not see everything non-human as the same thing."

"And maybe we're, you know, wasting time even mentioning it." Shepard pointed out, smiling good naturedly at him, "But we wanted to say thanks for, you know, trying so hard. It means somethin' to me, when my team works on getting along. Especially when they have reasons _not_ to try."

He just nodded, unsure of what to actually say, and Shepard clapped her hands, "Now then, waiter dear, fetch me and the wounded man something tasty to eat, will you?" The Turian made a show of looking over each shoulder, turning around, and then looking back to Shepard and pointing a talon at himself questioningly and Shepard giggled, "Yes, you, idiot. Go on, get, we're hungry."

"From mercenary killer to waiter, what a job change…" The Turian sighed, waving a hand over his shoulder and stomping away in faux-anger. "Fine, I'll get your food, but you're _both_ getting crackers!"

"If you can find any!" Shepard teased, the Turian hesitating at the door and calling back.

"You better not forget to tip, either! Galaxy's hard on a simple waiter like myself, you know." He laughed, the door sliding closed a second later, and John sighed when Shepard made absolutely no move to get off his bed.

So much for a nice nap…

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

The next morning he woke early, as he always did, and expected to find the medical wing empty. He always woke early enough that he beat out both doctors, and usually saw the standing nurse well before his time to head out came. He didn't need much sleep, and his internal clock woke him up early enough to be able to run before his fellows for whatever reason he might need to.

So when instead he found Wrex, leaning against the wall beside Mordin's console with an arm out while the Salarian cut small patches of flesh from it, he was a bit surprised. The two aliens saw him and nodded, almost mirroring each other in the gesture, as they went about their work for several blissfully silent minutes until Mordin was seemingly satisfied and offered to bandage the small wounds.

"Bah, save your napkins, doc." The Krogan waved him off, marching heavily towards the bed that the ODST lay in and calling over his shoulder - or hump, the Trooper decided would be more accurate, given his biology. "And you'd be wastin' time, too. You got a plague to cure, after all. Besides, little scratched like this will heal up in a few minutes."

"Krogan regeneration factors." Mordin said without looking over his shoulder, for John himself if he had to guess. And for obvious reasons, given his current situation. "Capable of regenerating very rapidly. Incredibly dangerous in combat. Also, useful in healing from tissue sample harvesting, as it stands."

"Yeah, doesn't mean you need to get near as excited with that damn scalpel as you do…" The Krogan growled, shaking his great head and speaking to the soldier, "He's a crazy bastard, but useful enough. How you holdin' up, Rookie?"

"Fine. Like yesterday and the day before." He answered simply, the Krogan humming in amusement.

"Didn't you get _shot_ the day before yesterday?" The Warlord huffed when he didn't answer, smiling in an odd kind of amusement. "Getting shot doesn't seem to bother you, though. One of the only humans I know has to be _ordered_ to hold still with bullets still _inside_ them."

"UNSC combatants are expected to suffer injury and perform their duties regardless. A few bullets in the abdomen should have seen me finish the mission, and be treated after." He explained simply, the Krogan humming as he spoke.

"I heard about the war you came from. Have to ask for my own curiosity and Eve's, the female you helped save, got anything like Krogan in it?" He spread his arms to give him a look, smiling in as friendly a way as something his size and covered in armor and thick hide could manage. "Big, strong, angry 'n dangerous. Not too bright, though, a lot of the time."

"Brutes." He answered quickly, understanding where the Krogan was going with his line of questioning. "Large, ape-like creatures. Every weapon they have has a blade affixed to it somewhere, usually, and they prefer projectiles that maim rather than outright kill. They also sometimes wield heavy hammers with gravity engines in them."

"Sound like battlemaster weapons, a bit." The Krogan grunted, cracking his knuckles absently and relaxing against the wall. "I don't use 'em myself, but some krogan warlords wield heavy hammers. They put biotics through it when they swing, gives it a bit more punch. I prefer ranged biotics, though, or to use my shotgun."

"I know." He said simply, gesturing at his bandaged chest. "I was on a deployment with you. I saw you fight."

"That you did, that you did." He chuckled, the sound rumbling into John's bed almost enough to make it shake itself. Not quite, though, and instead he felt the frame vibrate slightly from the bass sound rumbling from the alien. "So, how do you kill your 'Brutes', then?"

"You fire bullets until they die, or blow them up. Unless you have a high caliber marksman weapon and can obliterate their skull." He deadpanned simply, and the Krogan couldn't stifle the bark of laughter at the simple and frank answer.

"True enough of Krogan, too. We're tough beasts, hard to kill. I heard you been readin' up on your 'Tool. You read about Krogan biology?" He shook his head, he'd been too busy on history and politics to read about biology yet. Most he just inferred from size, stature and armaments preferred. "Redundant organs, thick hide, regeneration factors like the 'good' doctor," he used his fingers to put quotes around the 'good' part and smirked at the Salarian's displeased face, "told you, and blood rage."

"Blood rage?"

"You hurt us enough, we go ballistic." He explained, seeming rather happy to talk about such things. "I've seen Krogan lose all their limbs in a blood rage and start trying to bite whoever came near. Makes pain vanish like nothin', and makes Krogan stupid too. You see one get lit up a bit and roar, see his eyes go glassy, you put everything you got into his crest," he gestured at the armored front of his head so John would know what that was, "and hope he goes down when his brain does."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Felt like talkin' about something that isn't the damn Genophage." He shrugged, and then sighed when the ODST raised a brow in question. "Plague cooked up by the Salarians and Turians, spreads sterility among Krogans. Most births are still born, and gods if you ever hear the wailing of a young Krogan woman when she has her first still birth. And no," Wrex said when Mordin turned to speak, "I don't want to hear about it 'being needed at the time.' Not right now."

"Know when I am not wanted. Will not push issues around sensitive lab equipment." Mordin said simply, raising his hands in surrender and continuing to work while he hummed a happy tune to himself.

"Anyways, I… Kind of understand why they used it, but it rings a bit hollow when your _species_ is in danger of extinction as a result of shit you weren't at fault for." He gave the dimension hopper a small smile, nodding his head sympathetically at him, "I bet you know all about that, though. Eh, Pyjak?"

"Everyone pays for things they didn't do." He shrugged, frowning slightly and adding, "Just depends on what the payment is."

"True enough, true enough. For the record, I have respect for you and yours. Takes balls to lose like you were and just fight harder for it rather than give up. I can understand that kind of drive, the kind of people that can do that." Wrex sighed, letting them fall into a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

And wasn't it strange that an alien warlord, of all things, was who he could relate to the most? Still, gift horse and its mouth, as the saying went. He could appreciate company that got it, regardless of species.

"So, Rookie." Wrex finally started after a few minutes, "What do you say I exercise some of my 'diplomatic immunity' and jailbreak you for a bit? Let you stretch your legs, 'til Shepard comes down and kicks our quads in for it."

"John is injured, she won't hit him." Mordin pointed out cheerily, "Will likely just hit you twice instead."

"Bah, I can take it." He laughed, slamming a fist into an open palm and grinning at the wounded soldier. "What do ya say, Pyjak? Want me to take you on a walk?"

After a moment's consideration, he nodded and the Krogan laughed again.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Shepard watched the Krogan sneak out with her newest stray and smiled, leaning against the wall next to Liara's office with Chakwas behind her. Clicking her tongue, the doctor asked, "Is letting him wander around really necessary, Shepard? He's still injured, you know. He should stay in bed for another day at least."

"Let him be, Doc." She said quietly, giving her a small and knowing smile. "He's bonding with Wrex. And that's something important. He needs to get settled in here, you know? And having friends is a big part of our happy little fucked up family."

"I suppose." Chakwas sighed, slapping her on the arm as she stepped by, "If he pops a stitch, you're going to _need_ stitches. Understood?"

"Yes, Dad." She quipped, dodging out of the way of another slap and laughing quietly. "Go on, now, you got your medical bay back. See if Mordin needs any help, yeah? Getting that cure up and running is critical."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Halo Star Wars X Over Fan :**_

 **Actually, UNSC weaponry - at least common line weaponry like ARs and BRs - is rather low tech. Nothing special, even compared to modern weaponry in the real world. Compared to the ease and lower cost of just using ME weaponry, he wouldn't have much choice. While yes, the Alliance** _ **could**_ **outfit him with ammunition and maintenance tools, they have no reason to.**

 **Especially in a time of war when they are likely working to field as many fighters as possible, not outfit single individuals with more expensive weapons that would do the same job. Even his SMG wouldn't be much different from, say, a Locust or something like that. And the cost to use it would be exorbitant compared to those more conventional weapons**

 **Finally, the Citadel doesn't *have* rules against cybernetics. Every standard Marine in the Alliance gets them, and gene mods too. Their rules end with AI technology and robotics, as well as experimental cybernetics that are dangerous. Otherwise, Shepard would be illegal, as would Garrus cybernetic mesh that was used to heal his face. There are even entire units of Asari with cybernetics augments and Biotic enhancements to let them use Black Widow rifles.**

 _ **SD Phantom 10, Predator 1701 :**_

 **Yeah, gunfights aren't my specialty. I'm working on it, though.**


	6. Chapter 6

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

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 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Standard Alliance procedure for specialists like you, you get issued your own weapon and can modify it however you like. Or buy a new one, if you save up wages to do it." Cortez explained tiredly, handing him the Avenger he'd used in the mission on Sur'Kesh and gesturing at a workbench beside his own work-station with a tired wave. "You can use this to maintain your weapon or install upgrades or modular attachments, and I can issue working tools if you want to do it in your quarters. The console next to mine connects through Alliance supply networks to Citadel centers. You can order pretty much whatever you want, though that has a bit of a markup attached to it."

"Because of the war." The ODST as much said as asked, laying the rifle on the table and pulling up a stool to sit on while he worked.

"Supply chains are strained as hell, yeah, and getting stuff sent out to us in the field means ships not ferrying troops or supplies elsewhere." Cortez agreed simply, turning back to his own console to set to work now that the other soldier had been brought up to speed on the subject. "I have work to get done on the shuttle still, took some knocks on Sur'Kesh from those fighters, but let me know if you need anything."

"I will." He said shortly, using his Omni-Tool to interface with the workbench and bring up a holographic display of the Avenger's schematics on the back end of the workbench.

First step was first, disassembling the rifle and laying the parts out meticulously from left to right in order of function and size, pulling the solid metal ammo block from the loading mechanism and laying it beside the skeleton of the weapon with the Mass Effect engine left where it was.

He wasn't going to pretend to know how to work on _that_ , so best to leave it and its casing alone entirely before he blew his fingers off. Once that was done, he set to checking each piece in turn for even the tiniest speck of dirt or grime or fault he could see, again and again until he was satisfied completely and moved to the next.

"Heya, Rook." He turned his head to give Shepard a nod as she joined him, dragging a bench up next to the side of the table and watching him work on piecing the weapon back together again, "What'cha doin'?"

"Familiarizing myself with my new equipment issuance, Ma'am. And installing upgrades that the Turian suggested to me as well." He explained simply, carefully screwing the new heavy barrel he'd gotten into the open hole for the barrel.

"Works. Heavy barrels pack a helluva lot of kick, though." Shepard warned, folding her arms on the end of the workbench and laying her cheek on it, watching him working industriously and matching it with laziness. "Did you put in some inertial dampeners to help account for it? Cuz that's what Vega did when he put heavy barreling in his rifle."

"Yes Ma'am."

"Cool, inertial dampeners help you normies keep shootin' straight instead of carvin' a silhouette into the wall behind the bad guys." She raised a hand, clenching it in a fist and flexing jokingly, "Cybernetics from when I kind died a little bit for a year or a couple, means I'm a _bit_ tougher than your average sexy, redheaded, borderline psychopathic commando."

"That story is true?" He asked as his working hands slowed where they were piecing the casing of the rifle back together, knowing what she was referring too.

He'd read up on it while in the medical bay, partially because every search of 'Commander Shepard' talked about it, and knew she had supposedly died years ago and then somehow come back to life almost a year and a half previous. And while he'd rejected the claims as fantasy borne of any number of purely factual events being misunderstood and exaggerated far out of proper proportions by civilians who couldn't be expected to know anything better, a covert posting or operation both likely answers as to what would motivate that, Shepard had just hinted at its truth and now he _had_ to know and the topic seemed to be the source of her bad mood.

His training had bred an inquisitive mind, and when teased, it demanded answers.

"Yeah, Collectors attacked the old Normandy years ago and blew the poor girl to bits. Ended up spaced, with a rupture in my O2 system, and passed out 'fore I fell into a planet's gravity well and mostly burned up." She sighed, feigning a lack of caring for the matter that his trained eye saw through. With a snort, she added in a humorous tone, "Prolly looked like a charcoal briquette when Miri and those Cerberus assholes scooped me up and started puttin' me back together."

It bothered her, he could see it and hear it both. Her voice rose in pitch and strained, and she sat stiffer than she had before for a second before she relaxed again, both in reaction what she was saying. And that did double duty in confirming what she was saying was true, because innate stress about something was hard to fake and she had no _reason_ to come and lie to him about this.

And he had _no_ idea what to say to that, and so stayed silent and continued to work instead.

"Not tryin' to freak you out, Rook, promise." She said after a few minutes of silence, a sharp eye turning to her again. She thought he didn't believe her, or something of the like at least. "Garrus said I should tell you about it, since we're… Going to be fighting cerberus a _lot_ going forward. Better for ya to find out from the cybernetic zombie freak's mouth, you know?"

"Acknowledged." He answered simply, nodding his head at the woman and continuing his work on the rifle.

"Everyone else gives me a hard time for it. Speak freely, John, I don't like my crew to keep their opinions secret." She pushed, curiosity underlining her quiet words along with a kind of seriousness he didn't tend to see outside missions or other important settings.

"I don't care." He explained with a bored shrug, waving a hand at her, "Whatever you are, you have the bars. I don't know enough to have any opinion worth anything outside that, Ma'am."

"That simple, huh?" She asked, eyebrow rising with the question. He simply nodded and she snorted, rubbing the back of her neck with a hand and cocking her hip with the other resting on it, "Well, I figured this would be more of a _thing_ than it was. But I guess you've probably seen and done shit just as weird, huh?"

Another quiet nod as he worked, finishing up the weapon and collapsing it with a pleased nod before he sat it aside and she continued, "Well, uh… Glad to hear it, Rook. We'll be docking at the Citadel tomorrow morning, and after that it's only a week's travel to Tuchanka. I need you prepared by then, so I need to know if you need anything while we're on the Citadel, because Tuchanka doesn't exactly have strip malls."

"I only need orders, Ma'am." He answered simply, and the woman actually smirked at the words.

"On _that_ , Rook, you don't need to ask me." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, smiling roguishly the whole time. "Garrus and I are pairin' off with Liara to run as one strike team, and I'm giving you and Vega to Wrex to run other ops for the Krogan while we're there. Need someone screening lower priority strike operations for the old dinosaur. Square your gear and report to him."

"Yes, Ma'am." He nodded respectfully, giving the burly hispanic a sideways glance curiously. He was shaped like a barrel, and was inspecting heavy looking armor as well, and he understood why he'd been stationed with them. "Vega…"

Heavy strike force, he could tell it already, between the warlord, the hispanic man covered in armor to make a Spartan blush, and himself they weren't exactly suited for _assassination_ operations.

"Gonna be good with that? Wrex asked for you specifically, and I tacked Vega on for some adding hitting power since I won't be needin' him on my ops." Shepard asked, laying a hand on his shoulder gently, almost cautiously even, and watching his reaction when he stiffened at the sudden contact. "I can give your team Garrus if you prefer. Though, uh, Krogan and Turian can be a bad mix for a team even _if_ they're friends without me around to keep 'em in line."

He took a breath, forced himself to relax as best he could, and used picking up his rifle and heading towards his locker as an excuse to break the contact when that didn't work in calming his sudden spike in nerves, "It's fine, Ma'am. I'll get my kit prepared properly armor and head to Wrex immediately for his briefing."

"Jus' come with me, John." She said instead, bouncing past him energetically and smiling as she made her way towards the elevator backwards with her hands behind her head again as she had done before during his 'tour'. "He's waitin' on poker night anyways, so you can meet him there and spend some time with the team."

"I don't play poker." He deadpanned simply, following her regardless because he knew he wouldn't win the argument.

"Then I guess I'm 'bout to make some serious credits." She cheered at the door slid closed and she elbowed the button with a smirk. "Momma needs a new pair of gauntlets, though, so 'least your pay'll go to a good cause. Right?"

He elected not to mention his interrogation training, instead smiling thinly and shrugging, "If you make it an order…"

"Oh, I do, tall, dark and extra-dimensional. Think of it as the most official order you ever heard." She joked, eyebrows wiggling teasingly at the playful words. "Think you have what it takes, playin' with the big kids? Lil' warnin' for ya', Rook, but I picked out the game myself."

"I'll do my best." He assured her, and normally he knew he would have fought harder against gambling. Good as he was, even if he was _kind of_ cheating if he were honest about it, he'd never enjoyed gambling.

But Shepard's mood had lightened, and he couldn't bring himself to ruin it because he didn't like the game she'd picked out.

"How… I don't understand… I'm the best damn Hold 'Em player this side of the Rachni Wars." Shepard whined weakly about an hour later, forehead resting on the metal folding table and hands pulling at her hair as the Turian cleaned up from their game. Rolling her head to the side, she glared petulantly at the ODST next to her over the top of her pale arm, "How did you beat me?"

"Training." He said simply, shrugging and accepting the pile of little, silver chips that he'd been told were the physical versions of credits that the Alliance had aboard their ships for personnel use.

"You kind of screwed all of us there, Jane. Thanks for that, lost my damn Ryncol fund..." Wrex growled, clearly just as dissatisfied by losing but seemingly much more amused at the pouting Spectre. "Would've done just as good challenging a damn Quarian to a math contest."

"I didn't know I brought a friggin' spy or whatever the frack they trained _you_ to even _be_ to our poker game!" Shepard flailed, sagging in her chair with her arms hanging down the sides and head laying over the flimsy metal headrest. "Wrex, just… Tell him about your damn missions already, while I try to sew my damn pride back together… And my wallet, now that I think about it."

"Cerberus has a few locations on Tuchanka under their control," the Krogan started simply, smiling almost viciously as he went on, "and Clan Urdnot needs some political wins, too. So you, me, and the blue walking barrel with the loud mouth down in the 'hold get to go on some nice, simple missions."

"Go in, shoot some assholes, be the big damn heroes, maybe take some pictures, and leave to go do it again." Garrus explained, sounding oddly jealous before sighing and adding, "I remember when that was all I had to do… None of this political crap."

" _Classified_ political crap." Shepard corrected, pointing a finger at him and wagging it at him chidingly. "Gotta use the proper words, Vakarian, or the new Primarch might court martial you or… Something. Whatever Turians do to each other."

"I can answer that, hehe." Wrex growled, laughing low in his chest hard enough that the rumbling made the table John leaned against _vibrate_.

"No, no, fucking Spirits, no. Nuh uh." Garrus cut in, waving his talons distractingly, pointing one threatening talon at the Krogan warlord. " _You_ do not get to explain anything about Turian culture, Wrex. You are the last person on this ship that should be educating our new friend here about literally anything Turian."

"Maybe you should tell him about 'reach and flexibility', eh, Garrus?" Shepard teased with a wide grin and mirthful, sparkling green eyes, the ODST blinking in confusion at the alien's suffering groan and the laughter from the other two echoed in the room.

He very much regretted coming to poker night now.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Short little segue chapter, because next chapter is more god damn gunfights…. Yay... Woo… Someone, shoot me. Please. Sorry for the short length, I know it bugs everyone when something is short - just ask my ex - but the literal next scene is a long ass combat operation. And I generally try to keep chapters focused and on topic, so**_ **this** _**wouldn't have fit into those combat sets.**_

 _ **So, sorry.**_

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 _ **Monsieur Mole :**_

 **Glad to hear it, hope this short chapter doesn't disappoint terribly.**


	7. Chapter 7

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"Shepard is heading off to deal with some Turian strays a few hundred miles south of here. Apparently, they decided to play dodge the wrench with a damn Reaper or somethin' and got their asses blown out of the skies." Wrex explained with a dry and vindictive chuckle as the shuttle flew through Tuchanka's long torn skies, shuddering slightly as the wind currents shifted and buffeted along the hull. " _We_ get to head to an old Blood Pack facility for a raid, clear out some… _Uncooperative_ Krogan leftovers of Clan Weyrloc and a couple other minor clans and secure it for Urdnot and the Krogan Coalition."

"Uncooperative?" He had a feeling he knew what the warlord meant, but it was worth asking anyways to be sure.

"Krogans too damn dim to see the way the wind is blowing, and holing up in places I need to fight the Reapers on Tuchanka." The Warlord answered frankly, shrugging and sighing almost tiredly. "In the way, and they won't do a damn thing I say, so we gotta make 'em get _out_ of the way. Permanently."

"You mean that in the 'getting them on your side' kinda way, or the 'buryin' 'em out back' kinda way?" Vega asked, rolling his shoulders with his Katana held against his chest, leg bouncing on his far side from the rest of the fire-team. Nerves before a mission, probably because he knew he'd be fighting the notoriously hard to kill Krogan. But he cracked a cocky smile anyways and asked, "Need to know, hombre lagarto."

"My damn translator works just fine, you know. Damn humans and their damn languages..." Wrex huffed, chuckling under his breath and shaking his great head. Rolling his armored shoulders he gave the ODST a meaningful look for a moment before cracking a wide grin, "You looking forward to gettin' shot again?"

"Hm."

"Heh, no need to act that way, Rook." The Krogan chided gently, barking a harsh Krogan laugh when the ODST simply shrugged and went about checking his armor, pockets and rifle mechanically. "Anyways, what I'm trying to say is that you need to watch out. Vega and I have fought Krogan before, me a few more times than him of course, but still. We know what to expect out of a fight with 'em. Do you?"

"I read the Alliance briefings on Krogan." He shrugged noncommittally, neither claiming to know how to deal with them or saying he couldn't. His higher caliber ballistic barrel should be enough to make the Alliance's recommendation of 'unloading into the crest until it stops moving' work well enough.

"Alliance briefs aren't always the best, Rook." Vega sighed, shaking his head and chuckling. "Good guidelines, yeah, but not the best. Krogan crests are hard to punch through unless you concentrate fire on it, and they'll notice."

"Or just chamber armor-piercing, but yeah, Alliance ideas aren't the best when it come to killin' shit. 'Specially when they make the damn briefings _public_ , and even the dumbest Krogan merc can see 'em and think 'okay, how about helmets'. Or anything else that makes it hard to shoot 'em in the crest." Wrex added with a nod, huffing either in amusement or offense at the stupidity shown by the Alliance. "Stupid Humans don't understand a damn thing about warfare, somehow, after everything."

And the ODST couldn't help but agree completely, there was _no_ reason to make such military strategies publically accessible knowledge. The average citizen would either not need to know it, or enlist and learn it in training, so he couldn't comprehend the decision to make something like that public access. The enemy was bound to find out your tactics and work around them if you broadcast them over loudspeaker to them, that should have been common sense and knowledge both.

"Coming in on final approach, boys and Warlord. Landing site appears clear, expect light infil. Standby." The woman's voice called from the cockpit, crackling over the intercoms around them loudly.

"We land, fan out, kill anyone we see that isn't sporting Urdnot colors or surrenderin'." Wrex summarized shortly, cocking the massive shotgun in his hands and smiling viciously. "Krogan hospitals are built like fortresses, so don't worry 'bout breakin' shit. Rip 'em apart like a Varren with a fresh Salarian in its jaws, heh heh."

A moment later the bright white and blue lighting flicked off, replaced by red backlighting, and their conversation ended. Replacing their words was the sound of rapid clicking, whirring, fists smacking armor to check it, weapons collapsing and extending, and ammo being double checked. A familiar song to the misplaced Shock Trooper, who supposed that the sounds of war _would_ be the same in any universe.

That it comforted him so much was almost certainly telling, and just as certainly not something he would express anywhere _near_ ear-shot of Chakwas.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

The shuttle shuddered under him, his legs bending slightly to compensate with the force of momentum pulling him down the way the shuttle had been moving. He took a breath as the shuttle door raised in front of him, bright and bare sunlight beating down as it did and blinding him for a split second before his visor polarized and compensated for it.

Around them, massive walls of randomly piled and stacked rubble, sharp rock, and roughly hewn and bent metal towered around them forebodingly. A long path made of metal grids, rusted and partially covered in sand, cut through it like a road and about as wide as one. To either side of the stone slab of a landing spot, around its edge and dotting the 'road' intermittently as well, thick metal rods supported heavy burlap or lather canvas with stone slabs in front of them like tables. Or market stalls, given the number and regularity of them, even if they were empty he could imagine it as a busy market place full of customers looking for whatever a Krogan might need on a given day.

Gone now, though, leaving behind everything from weapons stacked on roughly made shelves or laid out in the sun, to meat hanging from hooks, and a few stalls selling scraps of armor. The rubble, according to Wrex, stretched for miles around them and was untraversable, even for Krogan or Varren for almost all of it. The clans had spent decades digging furrows through the stone, steel and other assorted detritus to form roads connecting to old highways and paths or linking to hubs of activity for each clan.

The Krogan warlord took the center and rushed ahead to draw any potential fire, and both Vega and the shock trooper stepped out to either side and sank to a knee, Avengers sweeping the surrounding mountains of rubble for anything that looked out of order. His VISR system pinged across the rubble on his side of the formation to look for heat signatures, nothing but small creatures scurrying away or hiding from them and hotspots shaped obviously like metal or stone left in the beating sun.

Several seconds passed of silence, wind blowing around them and howling through stone and steel around them, before he broke the silence, "Clear right, no targets."

"Clear left, no targets." Vega echoed, rising in unison with the ODST and moving to the Krogan's side as the alien warlord hummed in thought. "What's wrong, Wrex? See something you don't like out there?"

"This is a village, Vega, even if it's the outskirts of one." The Krogan informed him, waving a hand around him as he lumbered forward slowly and they followed. "The clans make thoroughfares and village spaces like these to _stay_. Unless someone forces' em to pack up and run. And just look, there's fresh meat and weapons out. Krogan would leave a lot of crap behind, but not weapons and certainly _not_ food. I don't like it..."

"You're in command here, hombre." Vega shrugged, voice only partially muffled by the heavy Alliance helmet he wore as he looked around. "Make a call, we got time to look around. No rush on this op, 'least not as far as I know."

"Something happened here, find out what if you can. I'm headed there, for now, see what I can find out on my own." He ordered roughly as they moved, pointing ahead of them at a ruined building that looked to have once been a tower. Most of the top had collapsed and been pulled away, leaving iron spiking into the sky and rough stone piled atop it, but three floors of it were still standing well enough. As he went, he called over his shoulder, "Radio in if you find anything."

"Yes, Sir."

"Got it, hombre lagarto." Vega waved his off hand, turning to look at him and adding, "I'm gonna head back to the 'pad, see if I find anything and work my way up the road. Or whatever _this_ ," he nodded at the grating and sand beneath them, "is supposed to be. You look around here and work back to me, then we'll work to Wrex's position. Clear copy?"

"Clear." He nodded, watching the blue-armored man turn and head back the way they came before turning to look around himself.

He started at the weapon stall beside him, looking behind the stone slab laid in front of it for anything odd. A throw rug of thick hide with an overturned stool kicked away made of metal, a leg broken off and missing, but the space was otherwise bare entirely and bore no signs of anything untoward happening other than the kicked over and broken stool. The weapons were in disrepair, of various types, and laid somewhat randomly on the slab and around it, but that was all the stall had.

A rug, a broken stool, and untouched weapons.

That the weapons were left behind, seemingly untouched, meant that there hadn't been an attack. Or, at least, not the kind that he would normally imagine to such a wide reaching string of disappearances. So this was almost certainly _not_ a Krogan clan raiding this clan. They'd have taken the weapons, there'd be bodies and signs of battle, and blood as well if another clan had attacked them outright.

Next was the largest looking food stall, two stalls down from the weapon one and on the other side. It, like the last, had a thick looking throw rug made of hide laid on the bottom of it, but this one's owner had to have been wealthier. A comfortable looking couch made out of some kind of bone and hides, large enough for a single Krogan to sit or lounge comfortably, sat in the back against _almost_ neatly stacked stone. Meat hung at the front, and a small metal stool like the one from the weapon stall sat against the slab, turned to the side slightly.

Beside the couch a heavy red shotgun like Wrex's with an added 'bayonet' the size of his forearm leaned against the arm of the couch. Untouched and, when he knelt and checked, fully loaded with ammunition. A small iron cube with an obvious lock on the front sat behind it as well, closed and untouched.

Hundreds of pounds of still fresh meat, what had to be a safe, a fine enough looking couch and a _very_ well made and customized shotgun.

More things that _would_ have been taken in any kind of military raid, in response to it or by the looters after.

The next three stalls headed towards the landing pad yielded the same results, which was to say nothing at all. The fourth, though, _did_ have something of note beyond basic comments on the life of the average Krogan and the fact it was more sheltered than most with three stone walls instead of the thick canvas tarps. Another sign of wealth or status, he figured, to have more solid stone and iron walls instead of canvas.

A splash of dim orange blood, dried completely by now, splashed across the rug on the floor behind a stone slab. Next to it, beside a smashed metal stool, a broken heavy pistol lay shattered, pointing at the wall in the back corner of the stall.

Lifting the weapon off the floor he hummed in thought, and then laid his rifle beside him and knelt where the stool had been smashed. Behind the stone slab, facing towards the shuttle landing. Raising the hand cannon, he pointed towards it, centering his sights on James where he knelt by a stall down the way. Standing to account for the height difference he turned, but didn't see anything on the wall that would demark bullet holes. And beyond, he knew he'd find the tarp of the other pinned against the wall, several metal rods poking through to anchor the stone doing enough to paint that picture.

Unless…

He laid his fist against it where he saw a slight divot and his eyes narrowed as the stone _gave_ slightly. Pushing the head sized slab, it turned and he blinked in surprise at the large claw marks there, three rough edges hacked into the stone with orange blood inside and trailing down it and cut off at the bottom. Turning the next stone, the trails continued, and he nodded.

 _Something_ clawed had attacked this Krogan, and he'd shot it or at least tried to, but it had seemingly smashed his weapon and cut the alien down.

Activating his comm unit, he spoke to his two partners, "I found claw marks, blood, and a broken sidearm. I think I have a suspicion of what happened here, and would like to go through it together before we move on with the mission."

"Rendezvous at the tower, Rook." Wrex answered lowly, sounding tired and angry all at once, "I haven't found a damn thing 'sides the obvious. That being a surprising lack of Krogan or signs of Krogan _leaving_."

"All I found were a couple ejected thermal clips, in different stall too." Vega reported, the ODST stepping out of his and turning to see him heading his way. When he joined the shock trooper, he added, "This place creeps the hell out of me… Never thought I'd say it, but I think I kind of _prefer_ when the Krogan are around, and loud, and proud, and shooting at me. Or trying to rip me in half, they're a varied bunch of gilipollas."

"Hm." He nodded, and almost agreed. He didn't have much experience fighting Krogan, but even _he_ found the area… Eerie. Enough to dislike it, and almost itch for an actual fight to replace it.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"It's the same up here, there's almost nothing to even _hint_ at a fight." Standing in a wide, circular room with a half-dozen smashed computer consoles surrounding a raised chair made of stone and positioned like a command chair set onto a raised platform authoritatively. "This is the Chieftain's command room, it _would_ have been defended by the warlord here and his personal bodyguards, not to mention his actual Krant if he felt there was any kind of threat coming."

"It looks like the consoles were all smashed, but…" Vega shook his head, leaning against one with his Katana drawn now instead of the Avenger now they were inside. With that weapon, he gestured at the main entrance. "The barricades are set in place, yeah, but it looks like they just _stay_ there. Guardin' the stairs down to the bottom floor, looks like."

"Normal Krogan defenses." Wrex agreed, the ODST following him as he thumped to the low but thick concrete barricades, ammo boxes behind both along with a couple heavy looking rifles and a heavy shotgun. "More good loot… Krogans would have taken everything, brought it here to sort through, then loaded up the good shit and run off if they were gonna leave."

"No signs of a fight, though. Not that I can see, at least." Vega pointed out while the ODST wandered around the room, rifle held tight against his chest as he scanned the room.

Old bullet holes and cracks riddles the stone walls, smooth and solid surfaces so that meant there wouldn't be any hiding blood behind turned stones up here. Like Vega had said, every single console around the raised dais had its control segments crushed, smashed, or slashed into oblivion. On the raised platform, behind the chair and leaning its handle against it, a heavy looking hammer of some kind was left untouched.

Just like every other weapon so far, aside from a single smashed hand cannon, and a couple scattered thermal clips.

"We should move on to the hospital, unless one of you have a way to bypass the control consoles and see if these consoles have anything good on 'em?" Vega asked, tilting his head slightly to the side with the question to try and convey some kind of curiosity along with it.

"Already did, they've either been wiped or corrupted by somethin', can't tell which." He held up a hand with a grimace, explaining, "My 'Tool has a Salarian auto-hacking program installed on it. The doctor back on the Normandy made it for me, if I was gonna be deploying to the field. Somethin' about 'resource protection', but I didn't really pay much attention to his ramblin' about it."

"Reapers could be doin' it." James suggested with a shrug, "Indoctrination would explain a lot of this. Indoctrinated Krogan wouldn't have fought when the Reapers came to collect 'em."

"Maybe…" He sighed, looking around and drumming his fingers on his rifle absently.

Indoctrinated Krogan explained a lot of this fairly simply, but not the broken weapon or the discharged thermal clips he and Vega had found. Those didn't make any sense if all the Krogan were indoctrinated and went along willingly, and if they weren't _all_ indoctrinated then there should have been _more_ fighting and signs of it than they had found.

"I sent a signal to some of my Krogan I had deployed nearby, told 'em to come in case shit gets bad." Wrex informed him as he rejoined them, gesturing at the door leading down with his heavy shotgun. "They'll be here in an hour, so we're gonna check the old hospital out, see what we find, and rendezvous back here later."

"You sure?" Vega asked cautiously, shrugging when the Krogan gave him an almost shocked look. "You're a VIP, Wrex, like it or not. Shit goes sideways down there, we have to worry 'bout gettin' you out of the fire. Too much at risk to not, but you're in command. So I got your back either way, hombre."

"Shouldn't be nothin' down there, we'd have run into it already. Reapers aren't the brightest bunch, they tend to rush in and hope for the best like young Krogan." He shrugged his great shoulders and barked a harsh laugh of bravado, jerking his head towards the wide door, "Come on, let's get it over with. This is just what Shepard would call a milk run, whatever that means."

"Means it's as easy as runnin' down to the store, which…" Vega trailed off and then shrugged, "Eh, that might not translate over quite right, actually. I feel like Krogans don't go to the store like Humans do."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

The hospital was ancient, made of thick stone and concrete and reinforced at every single doorway and throughout each hall. Massive iron or steel columns riveted along the stone ceiling to hold it up and fortify it, and each door even between normal rooms was constructed like a bulkhead or a bunker. At the bottom of the structure, Wrex had said, would be a long column like a basement where the clan would shelter its important people, children if they had any, and any women present as safely as they could be.

"They'd also mount defences inside the structure, like this." He pounded a fist onto an old, inactive gun emplacement that looked like a shrunken down anti-aircraft gun of some kind. "Make 'em work for it, but nothin' that could destroy the place. Not enough of these, and most of the time, both sides know not to risk 'em."

"Not much point taking a fort if you destroy it in the process, yeah." Vega nodded with a low and dry chuckle.

And while the ODST wanted to argue based on experience, he let it pass. It wasn't that important, and if he talked about the UNSC's own protocols, then that would only bring more questions. Questions he simply didn't care to deal with, and were better left completely ignored.

"Still no signs of any actual _fighting_ , though. Kinda weird, that." Vega added after a second of silence as they descended one of the staircases to the last floor before the massive column at the bottom to look through it. "Any ideas, Wrex?"

"Not really." He shrugged, moving through the hallway while the Humans behind him glanced through each door into the moderately large rooms on the other side to check them for anything. "You two see anything?"

"Negative contact."

"No, just a bunch of medical crap like the other rooms." Vega sighed, moving to the next door and calling out, "Guns in this one, looks like a small armory or somethin'. None of 'em are touched, though, and one's on a bench like it was bein' worked on until... Whatever happened."

"Let's head down then, there'd not a damn thing up here." Wrex sighed, either bored or angry he couldn't tell. Probably a mix of both, knowing him as much as he did, at not being able to find a fight or whatever had happened to 'his people'. "My warriors should be here in ten minutes, they'll be waiting on us, so we shouldn't waste time around here. Somethin' about this is makin' my skin itch."

Descending the last staircase, they came out in the long column at the center of the massive structure, and froze at what they found. The room itself was a hundred feet long long and fifty feet tall, at least according to his VISR range-finding pings, with massive support columns placed regularly with large and bright lights all along it. Massive metal cylinders surrounded them, wired to the roof of the place and from there along it to somewhere he couldn't see without tagging it in his VISR system.

But instead, the massive purple spikes spiring to the ceiling stole his attention, hundreds of them linked to what looked like massive bowled four or five to a piece filled the room. Machinery had been randomly tossed against the wall with scattered scraps of armor and weapons, along with small bundles of-

"Raaagh!" The warlord roared, charging forward past them and smashing through a machine in his rage filled haste. He holstered his shotgun as he went, sliding to his knees and almost seeming to tremble as he reached for a bundle and they followed, hearing him murmuring, "No, not this… No, no, no!"

When they joined him, he choked and rocked back and forth, almost _sobbing_ and cradling the small bundle like it was a precious jewel. The ODST turned and knelt, rifle raised warily while Vega kneeled beside him and spoke as gently as he could, both surprised to see the Krogan in such a state.

"Wrex, what is… Querido dios el cielo, is that a… A baby?" Shocked, the ODST turned, and caught sight of a small leg hanging out of the bundle. Wrex choked again and nodded jerkily, fussing with the cloth vainly, and Vega shook his head, "Oh god, Wrex, are all those bundles… Fucking Reapers!"

The Genophage, the shock trooper knew, meant that almost all births were still born for the Krogan. So children were precious to them, more so than almost anything else from weapons to land and food. Even the most hardened and cruel Wwarlord would hold off an attack if he knew there were Krogan children in an enemy camp. A Krogan child's crying at its birth, from what he'd read on the net, could cause days of celebration that even mortal enemies would partake in or at least recognize and leave the clan be in.

And a hundred bundled Krogan young were cast aside like so much garbage, broken and dead on the ground.

Across the room, something heavy fell and something else hissed loudly, and he rose at the sound, "Wrex, something is here. You need to get out of here, the Reaper presence is-"

"Brute!" Vega's shout was unneeded, everyone in the room heard and _felt_ the creature smash through one of the large, purple machines and barrel towards them. It was covered in a slimy substance, but Vega yanked him to the side before he could look any harder, "Circle right, Rook, I'll go left. Pepper it until it dies, aim for its legs to slow it down and cover Wrex before it-"

"Reaper bastards!" Wrex bellowed, the two soldiers freezing beside him as he audibly crackled in biotic energy and gingerly laid the bundle aside. When he rose, his eyes sparked with energy that arced across his great head, and even the Brute seemed to almost hesitated at the sight. Cackling almost madly, the Krogan Warlord lumbered forward a few steps and cracked his knuckles, flaring blue energy around him as he spoke, "You think you can take _Krogan_ children from us? Think that'll _break_ us, I bet. But it won't, not even close, you vermin!"

"You'll just piss us off!" He roared, shooting off faster than the drop trooper was sure was even possible towards the massive thing and slamming into it headlong.

The creature shuddered and roared, sweeping its great claw into the warlord's side, but Wrex just laughed and pummeled his fists into its head. Blow after blow, augmented with biotic power and Krogan rage, rained down onto the machine-monster's head and shoulders and it staggered under the weight before sweeping its massive claw out from its chest and pushing him back.

In response, the Krogan wrapped its arms around the Reaper and _yanked_ to the side, hurling it through the air and into one of the purple machines. The machine sparked as it exploded, spitting electricity that caught fire along the Reaper and on the consoles around it, and the Krogan leapt as high as he could. The Warlord came down like a cannonball, artillery power in his raised fists as it slammed into the Reaper and crushed it under him.

Weakly, either from injury or simply because Wrex didn't _care_ the ODST wasn't sure, its claw smacked into the Krogan's side and Wrex responded by grabbing it and planting a foot on its chest. With a loud, wet and somehow mechanical still _popping_ and _tearing_ sound, he wrenched the arm free and hurled it to the side with a joyous and victorious roar of challenge. Still the Reaper tried to rise, and he drew his Claymore, sneering imperiously.

"Don't fuck with our kids, Reaper." He said, emptying three rounds into it, reloading patiently between each one as he did. Finally satisfied it was dead, the Krogan stepped off the corpse and moved towards them, sparing a glance to the little bundles as he went before sighing. "My scouts are here, let's go report this to 'em. I want out of this piss hole."

Wordlessly, the two soldiers followed him.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **So, it would seem I am at the popularity level of 'high enough up to be starting to get trolls and flamers'. This will be posted on every story I have for this week, and then removed, as per usual announcement style for me.**_

 _ **I use Jaune, he's easy to mold and make fit, fun to write, and a slew of other various reasons that make him damn useful to an author. If you dislike that, then that is fine. I**_ **do** _**have non-Jaune stories. This will be posted on two of them. Yet flamers and trolls seem to think that isn't the case and like to post… I think nine reviews now on just two of the stories?**_

 _ **It's my style, I write what I like, and unless you wanna be a Supporter and request otherwise, then trolls and flamer reviewers don't get input I will register or integrate. You get a singular announcement, your reviews deleted if you do it again, and then wholly ignored.**_

 _ **Critique is one thing, saying 'ugh Jaune' in various ways with nothing to offer is another thing. And for any who may be joking or sarcastic, it's hard to read either of these in text form, and harder still to discern them from the actual trolls and flames, and even further FF has a problem with precisely that right now. So I apologize if you posted one of these in jest.**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Da Orkiest :**_

 **This chapter, I fear, my little green friend, lacks much dakka. My sincere apologies, I wanted to take a different bend on the chapter than normal.**

 _ **Monsieur Mole :**_

 **Well, glad you're enjoying it. I aim to please, as ever and always, even if sometimes I could stand to do so better.**

 _ **Scrub Lord 97 :**_

 **XD**

 _ **Predator 1701 :**_

 **Glad you enjoy it, and I do intend to continue.**


	8. Chapter 8

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_**Official Supporters:**_

 _ **Grand Priestess, Luna Haile - "That's meeeeee~!" ~ Mika**_

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 _ **If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our discord. Server for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, and remember to post a Review/Comment to let me know what you liked and didn't.**_

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 _ **Darkvampirekisses, Vucsiros**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"I'm getting reports of the same kinds of things happening on Palaven, and a couple of other Turian colonies the Reapers have apparently decided worth the effort." Primarch Victus offered quietly, standing opposite the long table with Shepard leaning against the wall across from the door with her arms crossed under her bust and Wrex across from the Primarch, fuming still and leaning heavily on the table. "Turian flags flying over Reaper locations, Turian civilians being used as meat shields to dampen our own attacks, even using historic sites as prison camps and fortified defensive points to lower morale."

"Not that that worked on Tuchanka." The Krogan Warlord slammed his fists together, chuckling dangerously in the way he did so often. "Word is already gettin' around, and recruitin' is up. Not to mention clan obedience and cooperation."

"I'll repeat my offer of Turian special forces and off world locations, Wrex." The Primarch said quietly, giving the Krogan a respectful nod. "I would gladly see to it that your civilians were safe-guarded. We're allies, and I do not mind."

"Yeah, yeah." The Krogan waved a meaty hand dismissively, though he saw the grave and thinking look in his eye. "I'll think on it, Turian, but my people won't like handin' our fertile females and little ones off to the same aliens that hit us in the first place. Kind of a sour note, that, askin' our kid's killers to _watch_ our kids for us."

"Wrex, I-"

"Anderson had the same to say when I managed to catch a word with him and ask." Shepard added before a fight could starting, giving the ODST leaning against the door a look, raising a thin eyebrow in question and asking, "You guys had the Nazis back when, yeah?"

"Yes."

"Great, don't gotta do shit for context then, since it's public knowledge. Not, uh, not that it's _good_ that you guys had Nazis too, I mean, but hey at least they're dead and gone now, yeah?" He shrugged unsurely and she rolled her eyes, looking first to the Primarch and then to the Warlord, "They're using old sites on Earth, too. Anderson doesn't know all of 'em, but we know they've demolished some of old Auschwitz and fortified it to use as a prison camp, same with the Eiffel Tower and a few locations like those."

"A psychological war, then. I suppose that only makes sense, though, considering." The Primarch sighed, scratching at his mandibles idly with his talons and shaking his head. "We need a win, Commander, and a damn good one. My Turians are disciplined, but we have non-Turians across our colonies trying to assist, and we _need_ them to. But morale is plummeting after the loss of _two_ homeworlds from major species."

"The Batarians too, even if they _were_ slaving, racist jackasses." Shepard pointed out with a small, sour grimace. History there, of some kind he wasn't sure about, John guessed. "They were a bit behind on tech, and morality, but they had a sizable enough fleet. And not many knew it was falling apart, so losing _all_ of Batarian space is a massive morale shock. That has a cascade effect."

"This is a different kind of war than anything any of us have seen, not in this universe or-or galaxy, or whatever the proper term is for this." The Turian nodded, giving the ODST a meaningful look and an apologetic smile that did _nothing_ to fill him with confidence. " _You_ are, though, from what I understand. And we need to know how you managed to _survive_ this kind of war, as much as a soldier can know."

So that was why he was here, then, among the leaders of two entire _species_ and with one of the most important women to the Human one. Grimacing behind his visor, and now he knew why he'd been allowed to keep his armor on when Shepard always complained against it, because they knew how uncomfortable he would be disclosing potentially classified items of his world's military and talking about his own people's fighting against a genocidal crusade of alien machinations and beliefs.

"I…" Still his hands trembled for the briefest of moments, and his eyes squeezed shut along with his fists before they could see or the trembling could worsen at the memories, "I do not want to talk about that, Commander. I-It's classified."

"I know, John, I..." Her voice was soft now, surprisingly so, and she glanced between each of her companions in turn before asking in a firmer voice. "Please, gentleman, give me five minutes alone with him? I'll bring him around, if he can be."

"Commander, I don't-"

"Come on, Turian." Wrex snorted, growling irritably at the demand but shoving off the table and stomping towards the door. He stopped in front of the ODST and gave him a simple nod of understanding. "The kids have shit to sort out, and I need to talk to you about this _entire_ Turian regiment you sent to Tuchanka again. I understand an assault is being planned, after all, and on _my_ planet. And speakin' of kids, I wanna chat about that too, while we got the time for it."

"I…" The Turian eyed the Commander and the Warlord in turn, and then sighed in that warbling, not quite synthetic way his species did. And then he nodded, "The Turian in me lauds your decision, young man. The _Turian_ in me asks you to reconsider, though."

The two aliens left without another word to him, and he sighed as Shepard moved to his side of the table and leaned against it, almost sitting on it with her hands gripping the edge under her. Reaching up, he tapped his helmet twice and his visor depolarized, but she didn't meet his eyes through the armored glass. Instead she stared down at the floor, eyes hard and shoulders tense as forged steel or a Pelican full of green Marines headed down to a planet on fire and a city of Brutes.

"Commander…?" She glanced to him at the soft and anxious words.

What was wrong with her, she _looked_ terrified. Neither the bouncing ball of energy, flitting around her ship to annoy as many people as efficiently as possible, or the hard as titanium plated armor commander that she was in the field. No, instead she looked terrified, suddenly and without any reason he could think of for it.

"I… Died, but-but you _know_ that, of course you know that. Of-Of course you do, you do your research." She gave him a glance, normally bright and vibrant green jewels glassy and fragile looking. Taking a breath, she sighed and nodded, "But I just wanted you to know that… That I get it. I saw your hands, too. I know why you talk the way you do, walk the way you do, fight the way you do. I do it too, put up the front."

"I bounce around, I crack jokes, and in a fight I make myself just… Just shut off." She snapped her fingers, smiling bitterly and letting out another long breath that seemed to shake her very being. "I died, alone and cold, in the void of space. And everything I fought for was almost destroyed, because of idiot, lying _politicians_. And every time I… Every time I put on that _damn_ helmet, I want to vomit, you know?"

She wanted him to speak, now, he could tell by the way she went quiet and watched him. But then she smiled, and nodded, "And _you_ look like you'll do the same at simply having to _talk_ , John. I have seen you throw yourself, unshielded, into a firefight with some of the most horrifying things this galaxy has ever known without fear. Seen you shot and been assured you could keep fighting. No fear."

"Shepard, I…" He shook his head, but even with her so upset, she still managed to smirk knowingly at him and quirk an eyebrow.

"But speaking to me, being _open_ with me about your problems or-or Chakwas, either one of us…" She shook her head, leaning towards him and tilting her head to see his face better. " _That_ scares you, more than- More than the Reapers, or Krogan, or a fireright, or even dying if I had to place bets as bad at _that_ as I apparently am. Doesn't it, John Doe?"

"...Yes." He finally admitted, through a tight throat and dry lips. He reached halfway up to polarize his visor but stopped himself, hand above the button that would do it. But, anxious and unsure, he glanced to Shepard, who simply smiled knowingly and understandingly in a way he couldn't have expected.

Feet first into hell indeed, with devils like her around.

"Have I ever told you what happened to my home planet?" He asked suddenly, letting his hand drop to hang at his side like the other one. Limp, weak, unsure of where to go, just like he felt at this moment. "I fought on it, in the last city, in the last part of the evacuation. Just before I joined the ODSTs. It burned under plasma bombardment, and from what I read a month later, it's just a ball of floating glass and storms now."

"I'm sorry for your losses, John, all of them. And I understand your pain in a way, just a little. Earth is my home, and it is burning right now." She gave him a look, smiling comfortingly like a woman speaking to a sibling. "I also understand what you go through, every day, and that you must be the best of men to fight even with all your faults and cracks in your armor. In your _being_."

"Thank you." He nodded, and he meant it too, thought that didn't surprise him. Shepard seemed able to inspire and touch people, from what he'd read, and he supposed he was on that list now. "How do you… Handle it, dealing with people? Even just this is… Grating."

"I lean on them, use them for support, and they know I do it." She smiled, jerking her head down and to the side. Towards the front of the ship. "Garrus and Mordin have heard me talk about this before, you know. I'm good with them because I love them, like family. Weird, scaly sometimes, _really_ angry in Wrex's case… But family. I tried… Support groups, once, online and-and a half-dozen religions, but none of it worked for me. And I mean, I don't know about _you_ -"

"I've seen a dozen worlds burn, and Marines eaten alive by Brutes." Among worse things, things he didn't mention but that made him shudder to allude to. "You don't experience that and believe in deities that care."

"Some do." She countered gently, raising a hand before he could respond. Not that he was going to, but it was more likely she was defusing an assumed defence. "But, uh, I don't want an argument, John. I'm just sharing my own experiences…"

"Because you want me to share mine." He guessed, the woman nodding gently. He grimaced behind his visor, but after a long second, he sighed and nodded. "I will answer whatever questions they have, Shepard."

"Thank you, John." She pushed off the table, using the momentum to feed her steps through the door. He made way for her as he had done Wrex, stepping back into the hallway, but she stopped next to him and smiled, "Do ya want a hug, John? I bet it would make you feel better. It always makes _me_ feel better."

"...No." He tried hopefully, knowing before he did it that it was a vain request. She wrapped an arm around him regardless, and he let her with a stiff face. When she pulled back, beaming a grin at him, he sighed and said a simple, "Thank you."

"Now, you get cleaned up, you look like you're about to cry with those red eyes. I'll go and get your big brother and his friend." She winked at him as the implication hit, and then was bouncing away on her heels energetically.

"Family… Family, family." He tasted the word, rolled it around in his mouth curiously as he stepped into the room and moved to the corner behind where Wrex stood. Leaning there, he hummed and then sighed.

Thoughts for later, he supposed, and he had a couple minutes before she could meander her way to collecting the two aliens to rest.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"The UNSC was quick to learn that, in this kind of war, everything has a number." He started, leaning on the table with Shepard standing behind him and smiling proudly and his helmet between his hands. "Every ship has a number. Every planet has a number. Every law, policy, military unit, has a _number_. A value that is simple and irrefutable, and understood by everyone including those being valued."

"Priced, more accurately, from how you're talking." The Primarch nodded in understanding, looking first to the Krogan and then back to the ODST. "We Turians already exercise such principles. Every man and woman fighting knows that they have a duty beyond them, and that if the moment calls for it… They will all pay the ultimate price."

"The Krogan do it too, kinda." Wrex added, clearly still in a foul mood. The Turian looked at him curiously, a mandible twitching and spiked brows rising gently to show it. "Krogan won't toss their lives away, but… They'll die well, for a good cause, and do so with a big old grin."

"How heavy is the fighting on Palaven?" The ODST asked suddenly, looking to the Turian with hard edged eyes. "Are you still deploying forces for civilian rescue?"

"Yes, of course, I…" The Turian's small eyes widened as he realized the soldier's implication. "You're implying that you think I shouldn't be doing that. Is that how your 'United Nations Space Command' fought their war?"

"Everything has a value in a war like this. A thousand civilians with nothing to offer the war effort are not worth losing ships, soldiers and ammunition for." He said simply and grimly in equal measure, shrugging his armored shoulders when he finished. "You asked what the UNSC would do. That is all I am answering, Primarch."

"I see…" The Turian swallowed dryly, taking a breath and looking at him. "The Turian people will… Take that under advisement, but we won't abandon our people to be slaughtered and turned into weapons to use against us."

"Hm." His eyes narrowed, and he wondered why they'd asked if they weren't going to _use_ his information. His armor needed maintenance, and his rifle too, and a nice nap wouldn't go amiss instead of wasting his time.

"Hey, relax, I see those shoulders tensin'." Shepard's foot touched the back of his leg and he looked over his shoulder at her, smiling almost dopily at him. "You're doin' fine, John, we're just working through the ideas your bringin'. Can't expect every single one of 'em to gel here too. So just take a breath and go to the next thing, 'kay?"

"Fine." He huffed, not in any ill tone but instead wishing to get it done and over with so he could leave, and leave the big decisions with the big people. "Next was Cole Protocol, which was introduced later in the war by a very successful admiral."

"I thought you lot were losin' that war somethin' fierce." Wrex interjected curiously, waving a hand when Shepard shot him a look. "Just curious, reign in the damn glares. He doesn't have to answer me."

"He was successful because his fleets _came back at all_ , and sometimes even with victories." The soldier answered simply, shrugging yet again. "The Covenant's shields and energy weapons made it so that a single Covenant corvette could take on ten of ours before dying, and that only gets worse as the ships get bigger. He gave us tactics to fight them."

"Like?" Wrex asked, waving his hands when Shepard threatened to throw something at him. "Okay, Shepard, but _this_ is actually important. They fought a bigger, badder navy and we have to too. Fishin' for ideas here is the meanin' of the meetin', ain't it?"

"I'm an infantryman, I don't know much of it." He said simply, making a half-smile and adding, "He _did_ attack a fleet twice his own in size near a gas giant, then insult their religion and nuke it to send it up like a small star, though. I don't know how, though, not specifically."

"And nuking our gas giants might not be a very viable strategy, I'm afraid to say." The Turian added, smiling in a sort of grim amusement mixed with respect. "Audacious and impressive as it may have been. Now, this 'Cole Protocol'?"

"If a station, planet or ship were being boarded or likely to be crippled and not destroyed, or destroyed in a manner which did not guaranteed all data was scrubbed, then…" He gave the two aliens a look and sighed, "Then the ship's issued artificial intelligence would initiate a data wipe of all codes, protocols, names, and navigational data. Acting officers would then delete the artificial intelligence, and if possible, destroy the ship. This way, the Covenant could not find out the locations of assets."

"Artificial intelligences…" The Turian stiffened, and then shook its head, "No matter, that was your universe, and I won't hold yours to our morality or laws here."

"Deleting information won't help much, since our planets are public access knowledge." Wrex pointed out, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall behind him. "So kind of moot too, there."

"Not quite." Shepard cut int, leaning against the table beside the ODST close enough their shoulders touched. And that he flinched, in reaction to the contact and the suddenness of it both, though he hid it as soon as he realized he'd done it. "We could implement the same thing with space-based installations. Refuelling docks, rearming docks, ship-building infrastructure, that sort of stuff."

"I agree, I'll send orders to the fleet to-"

Suddenly and violently, the ship rocked and the lights flickered, and between the time the lights died and the emergency reds flicked on, the shock trooper had his helmet on and himself between the Turian and the door as a shield. After several seconds, the ship once again shook violently and Shepard grabbed him, yanking him towards the door and pointing at Wrex.

"You stay here, protect the Primarch, Wrex. He's unarmed, but you're a biotic." She didn't wait for his response, but he knew Wrex would obey the orders. He respected the Commander too much not to, after all. Shepard's palm slammed against the door release and she snapped at the guards in the fortified point between the command deck and the CIC section, "Report, and give me two Predators."

"Ma'am, Joker says it's coming from Engineering." One of the responded crisply, handing them each one of the sidearms and then retrieving another for herself. "Controls are going haywire, along with _all_ our systems. That's the point of origin."

"Understood, you two hold the checkpoint and bar access unless there's an emergency until this passes. Rookie," she gave him a look, the hard edged Commander back in place, "you're with me, we're headed down to Engineering."

"Understood." He flicked his safety off and nodded, letting her lead the way around to the elevator.

They got down quick enough, and after the engineering crew confirmed no actual _fires_ to be concerned about, they met the apparent cause of the problems.

"So." Shepard started awkwardly, giving the ODST a sidelong glance and a smirk. "Did _you_ AIs have bods like this, too?"

"Negative." He answered, exhausted now of the insanity of the day. Shepard bumped his arm and raised her brow at him and he sighed, "No, Shepard, the AI in my universe or galaxy did not have bodies. They were kept on hardware and interfaced via software exclusively, to my knowledge. Better?"

"That was more than one word, so yes." Shepard quipped, looking back to the metallic woman in front of them. "So, EDI, care to explain… Basically everything about this to me? Beyond the technicals, I mean, just the basics will do."

"I wished to access this unit's body to see if I could recover any lost or stored data on its hard drives, or perhaps Cerberus information stored therein. Upon attempting to access the body, her subroutines activated a reboot sequence, which I was forced to act against. The easiest way to do so was to assume control myself." EDI glanced at the smoke and electrical burns around her and frowned, "She resisted and struggled. Thus the electrical discharges and system spikes."

"And _you_ are in control now?" She asked, just to clarify. "No… Mysterious Cerberus subroutines left? And _you_ are EDI?"

"No subroutines exist outside my control, and were I the Cerberus agent then I would have already vented this entire ship, Commander." She pointed out simply, shrugging as though it were obvious. "Cerberus would gain nothing from a spy that would not be equally served by eliminating the crew of this vessel. As I have not done that, I hope you believe that I am still me. I do understand your caution, however. It is warranted."

"Fine, I guess… Next time, tell someone first, understood?" Shepard asked, sounding more amused than angry.

"The conflict lasted less than thirty seconds, and sparing processing to speak to anyone would have borne not fruits and taken away the likelihood of my success against the Cerberus AI." She smiled apologetically, though, and added, "I _am_ sorry for frightening you and causing the trouble, however."

"Fine, fine, I want a full briefing packet distributed to the officers aboard with a classification that… Fits, I guess. It doesn't leave this ship." She pinched the bridge of her nose and added, waving her hand at the door, "Report to Joker for assignment, I guess, and… Don't let him break his hand in when he sees you."

"I will refrain from allowing Joker to harm himself in his excitement, Commander." She smirked, and the ODST sensed there was a hidden joke of some kind there as her synthetic eyes met his. "We have not met yet, Lance Corporal John Doe. I am sorry our first meeting was so… Uncomfortable."

He shrugged and, without another word, she slipped past them and through the door, and Shepard groaned. "What next, Protheans coming back from the-" Her Omni-Tool beeped gently once, and she raised her arm, looking over a small file sent to her and blinking, "Motherfucker, speaking of Protheans and their shit…"

"Ma'am?"

"New marching orders for a quick assignment to Eden Prime." She sighed, shaking her head and moving towards the door, "I'll message you with your own deployment, but _apparently_ Cerberus is up to no good there and there's Prothean ruins involved. A special kind, apparently, but Hackett didn't say what exactly. I'll see what i can find out, and let you know if you're on the op."

"Understood, Shepard." He nodded curtly, and she hummed in thought before smirking in that way he knew meant trouble.

"Also, John, don't forget your appointment with Chakwas is in a few hours." She winked, bouncing away yet again before he could respond to what she'd said.

"Mother fucker…"

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Okay, short but inteeeeense chapter. Very short note, ROOKIE'S understanding on protocol, history and the like is his own. Not what I think canon is. He misremembers and does not have access to certain things, as he is a person and a soldier with rules to operate under and be written under. Just to clarify, friend-os.**_

 _ **Hope you all enjoyed, have a good one, y'all.**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **D72 :**_

 **Okay, you have a lot for me to answer~**

 **As to Voi, I would** _ **say**_ **answering would be spoilers, but… I mean, would it matter? Getting** _ **to**_ **Voi at this point is likely to be an impossibility, even if the Forerunners existed in this galaxy, universe, dimension or however you interpret it. Kind of a huge Reaper presence there, and beating it would essentially end the war anyway so… Don't expect Forerunner ships en masse, eh?**

 **Why would EDI get him pissed at Dare…?**

 **Gonna be real, I actually wrote a short scene where the babies reanimated with reaper tech, but… Scrapped it, since it would be too Dead Spacey for me and break the tone of the scene.**

 **Yeah, I… Confidence is an issue with me. Nature of the beast, self doubt and the like, when it comes to art of any kind. If it helps, I realized that and didn't post that thing you're responding to on other chapters.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 _ **SD Phantom 10 :**_

 **Yeah, not gonna lie, I felt good writin' that after what I put him through there. I could feel Wrex smirkin' at me from Krogan heaven.**

 _ **Patiflops :**_

 **In the beginning, he couldn't understand them. Only Vega and Shepard due to lacking an Omni-Tool. However, between scenes mainly though I gave it a small reference, he was given an Omni-Tool to use.**


	9. Chapter 9

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_**Official Supporters:**_

 _ **Grand Priestess, Luna Haile - "That's meeeeee~!" ~ Mika**_

 _ **High Priest, Alvelvnor**_

 _ **Priest, The Impossible Muffin**_

 _ **Priest, Xager the Chaos King**_

 _ **Acolyte, DigiDemonLord**_

 _ **Acolyte, Maxentirunos**_

 _ **Initiate, Greg Gibson**_

 _ **Initiate, Gentleman Mad**_

 _ **Escapee, Voltegeist**_

 _ **If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our discord. Server for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, and remember to post a Review/Comment to let me know what you liked and didn't.**_

 _ **So, Fanfiction will not let me link to discord. So, I apologize to every single FF reader for this, but please PM me for a join link. And please consider doing so, I enjoy chatting with you lot. On AO3, the link is viable :**_ _ **/2UZncAm**_

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 _ **Betas for this story so far :**_

 _ **Vucsiros**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Our Alliance meant the Normandy would be _here_ , Commander. On Tuchanka, until the Genophage is cured and Tuchanka is secure as it can be with giant metal death squids flying around my space." The Krogan sighed, trying to ease the tensions in the diplomatic room with the weak humor and gave the Turian beside him a look. "Can you spare anything that I could use to smooth this over with my people?"

"Unfortunately no, not yet at least." The Turian grimaced, voice coloring with his disquiet as he explained. "We just lost one of our dreadnoughts in the home system, only damaged thankfully even if extensively so, but… It's weakened our hold even more than it already was across the system. The Reapers seemed to realize the extent when it limped away and are pushing in response."

"Hackett has a few frigates he could loan for support purposes, but they're undermanned as it is." Shepard shrugged, frowning herself and shaking her head tiredly. "A couple platoons of Marines, lot of 'em green on top of that, and with _half_ the crew compliment they need for them. So some of the Marine Engineers won't even be _deployable_ , filling those holes in."

"So probably just _one_ platoon of actual help, and some damn support frigates?" The Warlord growled, angry but not at her. She knew better than that, trusted Wrex not to let his emotions get ahead of him, and even if Victus stiffened at the sound, she didn't. "That's not a trade, Shepard, that's barely even _useful_. One Reaper-Destroyer would be able to cut them all apart, 'specially undermanned and with pups fighting for 'em on the ground."

"Your people will be up in arms." Literally, if she had to guess. And she couldn't even _blame_ them all that much, really. "The Alliance knows that this agreement is at risk for this, but the _last_ Prothean site we hit up had plans on you-know-what. If this one has _anything_ like that, or related to it then we-"

"Then you have to go and get it, I know, Shepard. _I_ get it, Commander, but _they_ ," he waved an armored and meaty hand at nothing, presumably referring to the Krogan as a whole on Tuchanka and above it in their ramshackle and loaned ships, "don't and won't. All they will know is that their shiny new 'High Warlord' is letting what was agreed to us just _leave_. Half the clans will start trying to replace me, and the _other half_ will start trying to kill me."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Victus, actually curious now judging from his tone and the very Turian way he tilted his head at the Krogan to convey that.

"Not really, no, the ones wantin' me replaced would want me around to smash heads and the usual for 'em." Wrex shrugged, waving a hand again the same way as he had before and grunting dismissively. "The others would actually want me _dead_ , probably say I was workin' for you or the frogs or something to justify it after the fact. If they bother, but hey, might make replacing me easier on whoever manages to get me."

"And that would mean a Krogan civil war, and probably after _that_ they'd go after the Hierarchy and the Alliance both." Shepard growled, irritated herself now and pinching the bridge of her nose. "But I _have_ to go, we can't let Cerberus get whatever is there and they basically have the entire planet under their control."

"Can you stall the mission a week and a half?" The Primarch asked, leaning on the table tiredly, shoulders sagging uncharacteristically in fatigue. "I can try and get one of our scouting flotillas out here, along with the Alliance support frigates, and some… Marines and Navy from destroyed ships and units to fill out the Alliance's numbers a bit."

"I need numbers, Victus, not vague bullshit that'll just get thrown back at me." Wrex grunted, shaking his great head when the Turian didn't offer anything more concrete. "Last time my people got asked to trust aliens, we got neutered and demilitarized. Trillions of dead babies and two thousand years later, I am not asking my people to just _trust aliens_ again. Even if I do trust 'em."

"Your faith in me is appreciated."

"Eh, I was more talkin' about Shepard and the Alliance." The Krogan let out a low, harsh laugh at the barb, smiling to let him know it was mostly a joke and then sighing. "I think you're one of the good ones, Victus. You lead from the front, and didn't run off when a fight came knockin'. I respect that, and you, but…"

"Your people don't know me, and some wouldn't care. I'm a Turian and that's enough reason to hate me. Kill me even, if they could pull it off." The Turian's voice flanged and warped at his displeasure, but the Turian forced it aside. "Not like we can _do_ anything about it here, though. What's important is getting that Prothean ruin secured, and seeing if there's anything there we can _use_."

"Hackett doesn't have anyone else he can contact. Every N-Seven is deployed, missing-in-action, or stuck on planets under siege." Shepard added, drumming fingers on the metal table between them as she spoke. "Cerberus has Eden Prime locked down too much for anything except a stealth operation, or a fleet action, to get in. And the second option would get the Prothean site bombed to hell and back."

"Not that we have the _fleet_ part of a 'fleet action' to spare either." The Turian added with a disgruntled clicking of his flanges. "And my special forces are in the same boat. Hell, Blackwatch itself is mostly already _here_. On Tuchanka."

"Then I have an idea." Wrex offered quietly, leaning in conspiratorily and smiling like a child with a particularly juicy secret to share. "We rig up one of those Kodiaks with stealth capabilities, and send a strike team on it. While we say _you_ ," he pointed at Shepard, "got hurt in a fight and are on bed rest in the officer quarters for a couple weeks. Should be enough time, right?"

"It should, assuming the Kodiak can be properly stealthed at all _and_ in a reasonable time for this plan." Shepard added, nodding slightly and running her tongue along her lip as she absorbed the plan. "I won't be able to take a _strike team_ on the op, though. Taking three or four members would get noticed too easily, especially in regards to Liara and Vega. They're too social, people would notice."

"And I can _use_ them, Commander." Wrex added, thumping a fist against the table excitedly and turning to the Turian. "Your boy still needs men and manpower for that assault against Cerberus, right? Before that nuke gets set off in the Kelphic Valley, if I remember right."

"Right, and I am not going to ask how you _found out about that_ , but… Ah, I see where you're going with this." The Turian sighed, sounding amused and annoyed at the same time. "You're a shrewd leader, Wrex, I will give you that. Shrewd, demanding, and far more intelligent than any of my advisors briefed me on."

"Fire 'em."

"Most of them are already dead, so… I don't think that is needed." The Turian chuckled weakly, straightening at the dark humor of the joke and sighing with his spined arms crossed over his chest. "Lay your plan out then, _High Warlord_ Urdnot Wrex."

"Split up what you have left of your Blackwatch unit between the two landing points you had mapped out, half and half." Wrex started simply, talking as much with his hands as his mouth now that he was planning out a fight. You could take the Krogan out of Tuchanka… "I'll lead one myself, your boy leads the other, and we supplement with some of my most loyal Krogan and Shepard's squadmates."

"Makes a show of involving the Normandy, and it _being here_ , with an excuse for me bowing out of the fight, and lets the Krogan and Turians fight together against a distinctly _Krogan_ catastrophe." Shepard listed out, the Krogan Warlord nodding along with each perk of the plan as she said it. "And while _telling them_ about Turians dying for a Krogan cause won't do much, if they fight and die together…"

"Then they'll believe it, and honor it in a very Krogan way, as unfortunate as it is to be _using_ the deaths of my men and women like that." Both of them knew that it was reality in a war like this, though.

Cerberus would shower them with everything they had on-planet that they couldn't get away with, that was simply how they fought now. Disposable pawns just buying time and doing as much damage as they could while the more valuable soldiers withdrew and engineers destroyed whatever they found that was valuable. Scorched earth, ironically by the same people that practically _worshipped_ Earth.

Zealots all the same, and the unfortunates that they turned into puppets for their own ends.

"I can get Cortzen and Vega both working on the Kodiak right away, clear both of them of other duties for the duration." Shepard started, smiling almost maniacally now as the finer points of a good plan presented themselves. "Primarch, does the Blackwatch detachment or anything you have in-system that you can trust have any good engineers?"

"None close enough to matter, or that can be spared." He shook his head, and she almost swore at the news before he smirked and smiled. "I was in an armored division when I was younger, though, and then moved through to ship-board and aerial engineering later on. It'll put pressure of my command staff, and require you to 'leak' Alliance military secrets to me that I won't even _try_ to promise I won't use on my own fleet, but… I can help."

"I'll clear it with Hackett for technicality, but…" She sighed, shaking her head for a brief moment as she considered what she was about to do and then nodding in resignation when she did. "Head down to engineering, grab Kenneth and Gabby and then head to the cargo hold and get them with Vega and Cortez. Hackett doesn't have an option, and I don't have _time_ for the proper channels."

"You sure about that?" Wrex asked warily, giving her a worried look and grimacing. "You could get in a hell of a lot of trouble over that, you know, Shepard. The kind with prison sentences and firing squads."

"Comes after the war, even _if_ he tries something like that." She waved it off, uncaring beyond what was needed to get this war over with in a way that had as few _extinctions_ as possible. "I'll be taking Rookie with me, Wrex, if you don't mind."

"He's your man, why are you asking me?"

"Because he's _assigned_ to a command under _you_." She rolled her bright eyes, smiling at the Krogan's forgetfulness. If it wasn't a fight, sometimes he could forget just about anything without any real warning or reason for it. "I need to know if you _need him_ , because I'd enjoy having him for this. Garrus and Vega are good in out and out fights, less so at stealth operations. And Liara needs to stay here, as we discussed already. So he's who I want with me."

"Take him, then, I don't mind." He shrugged, grimacing and almost seeming to _pout_ a bit. "Was lookin' forward to seeing him fight a real battle, though. Would have been a hell of a show, Shepard."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure of _that_ too, Wrex." Damn sure, in fact, and she was kind of upset to not get to see it herself either. But she'd at least get to see him on a stealth op, and that was apparently what ODSTs were good for aside from shock and awe strategies. "I'll deal with Hackett, Victus can help get the Kodiak up and running, and you get to lead an assault on a fortified position."

"You know, suddenly I feel like he has the easy job." Victus complained lightly, for once sounding genuinely enthusiastic about something.

"Nah, just the fun one." Wrex laughed, the rumbling sensation drifting through the air and into her bones as he did. Shaking his great head, he asked, " You got the Turian helping with your shuttle, you need anything else from me?"

"What kind of manufacturing do you have regarding gunpowder munitions?" She asked, smiling thinly in that predatory way she knew amused Wrex so much. "I have an idea that I think you and John will both _love_."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Eden Prime was passed by in the Reaper's path to cut off Earth." Shepard explained, leaning against the wall between the two staircases while the Rookie worked on his submachine gun and listened. " Hackett's reports say that it doesn't matter though, you open on any normal frequency and all you get is distress signals jamming the radio. Lot of the farmland is on fire or at risk of it, and Cerberus is all over the main cities. We don't know much aside from that, but that they are pushing 'recruitment' hard."

"Hm." An occupation, then, which was to be expected. The food, industry, and manpower replenishment would be incredibly useful to them. If it wasn't a _requirement_ for them to be able to prosecute the conflict, that is. "What is the operation?"

" _Hopefully_ , you and I will be using a Kodiak refitted for stealth and headed to Eden Prime on our own." Hopefully? That didn't sound very sure, and neither did the commander. "A Prothean site was discovered shortly before the Reapers hit, and Admiral Hackett needs to know what it has we can use, if anything."

"I see." He gave his Avenger, leaning against the wall beside his 'table', a look and grimaced. "My rifle is unsuited for this mission, Ma'am. I need something suppressed and automatic, and something for room clearing as well."

"You have your old gear, and I can _see_ that you keep it maintained." She sounded amused, and when he gave her a curious look and paused in his work on his rifle, her face cracked into a wide smile. "Wrex says he'll have a _crate_ of ammunition for it up here by the time the Kodiak is ready. It'll be a day or so, according to the Primarch."

"I…" His own weapons, in use again and with ammunition to be able to keep doing so if he wished? He'd be lying if he said that didn't please him. "How much is that going to cost? There are better uses for our resources."

"Free of charge, the Krogan already make gunpowder and Wrex has a few _dozen_ gunsmiths and ammunition makers churning out goods. I _did_ steal a couple rounds from you to give them to copy, though." She shrugged and, while he was _curious_ about why the Krogan even bothered with any gunpowder based weapons at all, he ignored his curiosity and let her continue. "He says he admires you, wants to let you fight at full power. I think he just wants to see the damage you can do, though."

"Ah." He nodded understandingly and turned back to his work while he thought. It seemed likely enough, if he was honest. "What kind of complement are we deploying with?"

"None." She said, once again surprising him into silence and stillness and drawing a confused look from him. She smiled apologetically and shrugged like it didn't matter, rolling her eyes when he kept staring at her in question. "I know I'm hot, Rook, but c'mon. Quit starin' at a lady."

"Hm." He returned to his work and she groaned.

"C'mon, don't be a sour puss, John." She poked his shoulder as she passed, plopping onto his neatly made bed and making a point of messing it up to annoy him. After a second to pout when he didn't react she went on in a more serious tone. "We're deploying for a stealth operation. Cerberus shouldn't know we were there, if we can help it. Get in, get the data we need, get any data we can to the Eden Prime resistance forces, and then leave. So we don't get a complement of forces going in with us or any active support."

"Hm." So a black raid was the name of the game then. No support, no rescue, no reinforcements, high risk, high reward. "Okay, Commander."

"That's why I want you on it with me, John." She smiled, beaming up at him brightly and giving him a look he didn't quite understand. "We get each other, and we get along, and you have a _lot_ of experience in this shit. So I want you on my back. If you're willing, of course, you don't have to."

"I am." It was his job, after all, and one he had been doing for _years_ now. Why wouldn't he be? Especially when the alternative was sending Jane out with someone less competent or _no one_. "When do I need to be prepared? I'll need a knife as well."

"Three days, give or take. Hopefully at least. I, uh, I don't actually know for sure." She shrugged, and he understood what she meant. They had preparations to see to before they could go on the mission, and she couldn't even guess when they could actually _go_ on it. "But within three days, hopefully, unless something goes wrong. Or I'll change plans, after that time limit hits."

"It's that important?"

"It could be the key to the war, John." She smiled sadly, and he understood just what she meant. Could sympathize with it as well, the desperation for something that could save a _species_. "So I can count on you?"

"Of course." As though there was any doubt about that? He was almost offended, though not quite. He nodded, turning to focus on his weapon again closely now that he had a deadline. "Always on standby. You have me whenever you need me, Jane."

"That's some dangerous phrasing there, Rook. Might make some promises you don't mean to, should be careful 'bout that." She smirked, teeth and eyes glinting dangerously at him, and his eyes narrowed in confusion and question again. But she ignored it, rolling her eyes and laughing at a joke he'd missed as she stood. "I'm going to go micro-manage some shit like I do, you get some rest. And be ready to move as soon as possible."

"Understood." Even if he was somewhat confused by her antics, he was learning well enough to just deal with her weirdness. She shot him another look he didn't understand, smirking lightly and chuckling at something, and then left without another word.

Still, used to it or not by now, she was odd sometimes.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **A cookie to anyone who knows what amused Shep so much.**_

 _ **Short chapter, with some strategy talk, planning and background building. Next chapter will be the mission on Eden Prime, and Javik. Which I have seen some moderate amount of anticipation over, actually. Which I was not anticipating.**_

 _ **Also, to those who will wonder, yes. Rookie can opt to use his own weapons now. As I said, the**_ **Alliance** _**couldn't afford to outfit him specially for little to no discernible reason. Wrex, though, can and would for the lols.**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **SD Phantom :**_

 **I think I have a niche in interpersonal, character moments and drama. Along with, amusingly enough, melee combat. I wonder if there's a link there. XD**

 _ **The Real Mason Mac :**_

 **Depends on execution, really. That said, I can't discuss without spoilers in either direction, confirming that a romance** _ **does**_ **happen or** _ **does not**_ **.**


	10. Chapter 10

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

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 _ **The one and only Voltegeist  
(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"The shuttle has been stealthed, and we'll be hitching a ride with a Turian transport to get out of this system and to the Exodus Cluster. A small Turian flotilla is there supporting defensive measures to combat Cerberus forces in the system, keep them from taking control of the Relay itself." Shepard explained as they hauled the supplies they were bringing onto the small, blue shuttle. "We'll be in here for about a week since we have to jump systems _in_ this thing, _and_ it'll serve as our base while we work on Eden, so get comfortable in here, John. We're staying for a while."

"Hm." So that was why she'd told him to pack food, and made him bring his cot as well. "Understood, Ma'am. I'll see to my things."

Inside, a kind of aluminium foil like material had been stretched along the walls, ceiling and floor to keep the heat out of the compartment. Two large boxes too up the back third of the shuttle, see-through tubing connected into the aluminium foil, duct taped thickly around the connection. Presumably to trap the heat so they didn't melt when the shuttle suppressed its heat venting, based on what he'd studied on the Normandy's own stealth capabilities. Small and dark blue, it would more than do the job in hiding the shuttle in space.

The seats for it had been removed as well, leaving them space for the two folding cots they'd brought on either side. Against the back of the cockpit, a small, blocky computer had been set up with two smaller boxes next to it and a sea of cables, a small dish beside the main module holding most of them and wrapped in bubble wrap. An item that, apparently, had been invented in _both_ universes and survived the test of time. A crate behind the wrapped dish was clearly labelled as having rations and water, and another beside it for thermal clips and ammo blocks both, with a small clip-venting device on top of them to let them purge their clips if they needed to.

He glanced into the cockpit and saw it empty, turning to unfold his cot and asking, "Pilot?"

"I'm piloting it to the Turian ship, and then out to the Utopia system and down onto Eden prime." She answered simply, tucking her collapsed Avenger under the cot she'd unfolded followed by her helmet. Tucking a long strand of her bright hair behind an ear, she turned and sat on the cot, leaning back in her armor and explaining further. "Less people involved means less people missing off the ship, and so less questions being asked. Plus, I can pilot, so I figured it would be safer."

"Hm." She was right, to be sure. Compartmentalized command and unit role assignment, with as few hands as possible involved, was more than viable in a conflict like this. It was practically a requirement. "Understood."

"We'll be confined to the shuttle while on the Turian vessel as well." She added with a sigh, frowning and shaking her head. "Except for when we eat, which food will be delivered to us if we need it to be but we have rations, and when we go out to use the bathroom where we have to wear full armor with our helmets on, that door stays shut. And we don't speak either, to the Turians."

"I see." That explained why her armor's N-7 insignia had been covered and the set, formerly black with a red stripe and number, had been recolored a more standard Alliance dark blue, speckled with a hexagonal pattern to break up the form for the operation. "Understood, ma'am."

"Gonna be good stuck with me for close to a month? In these conditions?" She raised her eyebrow when she asked, and he simply shrugged and offered a small nod. That drew a frown from her and she leaned forward, hands on her knees, "Going quiet again, I see. Chakwas said you were withdrawing a bit…"

"I'm fine." He assured her, taking off his helmet and tucking it under his cot with his weapons like she had done, shifting aside his own supply of ammunition for his extra weapons. "Just getting into the mindset of the mission. Silence is useful."

"Just don't close up on me again. Okay?" He nodded and she relaxed a bit, standing and leaning past him close enough her chest almost brushed his shoulder, pulling the shuttle door shut and turning to head into the cockpit. "We're casting off then, just relax and enjoy the ride, Rook. Be over 'fore you know it."

And he did exactly that, double-checking his stashed submachine gun and pistol and the ammo with it. Satisfied, he reclined on the cot and let his eyes close, forcing himself to accept the rest while he had it.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"The shuttle is smaller, and can make the jump just fine, but…" He leaned on the door leading into the cockpit and Shepard looked over her shoulder, hair a mess of sweaty clumps after five days already in the heat of the shuttle as it skirted around skirmishes between small groups of ships across the Relay-system. "We'll feel it, in here, like this. It won't hurt us, but it'll shake us up."

"Hm." He nodded, looking at the scattered pieces of armor around the cockpit meaningfully.

"My armor won't do anything, and it's too hot to wear it in here. Plus, I..." She glanced at the window and shuddered, hands clenched tight enough into fists to turn white, and he understood immediately. "It won't help anyways, if something happens, so I-I don't want it. At least, not right now, I have to clean it and recheck the systems before we land anyways. So I'd just take it all off again tonight."

Her armor made her anxious, inside the small and helpless shuttle where even a glancing round could send her tumbling through space. She was more comfortable in her bodysuit instead, even if the temperature difference couldn't possibly be enough to matter. It was her fear that drove her to shed her armor, unlike he himself who had only removed his helmet for the heat, because of what happened to her. And yet, in spite of that ingrained and trauma-built terror he _knew_ she was feeling, she'd volunteered for a mission that she knew would put her right back into it.

Admirable.

"Understood." In more ways than one, but he wouldn't challenge her for the same reasons she didn't force him to talk about things he didn't want to.

"I'm angling the shuttle towards the Relay starting now, John." She said when he turned away to head back into the compartment, looking over an armored shoulder for her to finish. "I can see skirmishes all along the way we have to sneak around. Can you check the thermal-banks, make sure we don't need to vent?"

"I will." She gave him a nod, green eyes dimmer than he'd ever seen them, and for a moment he considered staying. Asking what was wrong.

"John?" She had noticed him lingering in the doorway and turned, one arm on the back of the chair and an eyebrow raised in question. When she smiled in that same way she always did to tease him, it seemed weaker somehow. Like she was forcing it. "What's up? You know your 'Tool has a camera, if you just like checkin' me out, and you've been starin' for a minute now. Why?"

"Thinking." About things that weren't his business unless he was asked to get involved in it. So he shrugged simply, stepping through the door and into the passenger compartment.

Kneeling in front of the Thermal-Banks, he pried the covers off and laid them behind him, careful to the point of paranoia not to damage the covering inside the shuttle. Inside, set onto two brackets about as wide as his shoulders one on top and one on the bottom of the box, glowing orange coils hummed with energy. Forty of them, each half-colored a dark orange bordering on bloody red and half a brighter orange that seemed to crackle with electricity contained inside the cylinders.

Quickly replacing the panels he returned to the commander and poked his head inside, the woman turning her head slightly to hear his report. "The banks are half-filled, Ma'am."

"Check the thermal wrap too." She ordered, and he did as she told him, checking every single inch of it for an hour until he was satisfied. Even using his VISR to scan for thermal fluctuations that would indicate a heat leakage somewhere across the material, and finding none. When he reported that, she simply nodded and hummed, "Alright, thanks, John, next I need you to- Radar, shit!"

The shuttle suddenly trembled violently and jolted in a trembling evasive maneuver at the last moment, turning on a sharp angle that would have thrown them against the wall if they'd been inside a gravity well. Instead they had to brace themselves, her on the control console in front of her and he on the door frame, while the shuttle's computer cried in warning and protest at the maneuver and the what it bright before the Commander righted them and pulled away with the engines flaring to bring them back under control.

Towards the edge of the system, and away from the large ship sporting Cerberus insignias and scorched from a fight, pulling away from them at thousands of miles an hour. The shuttle matched them, going the opposite direction, and they held their breath for several long seconds spent waiting on an alert on the shuttle's systems. When nothing came they both relaxed finally, Shepard straightening in her seat and shaking her messy mane of hair irritably.

"Damn it, the shuttle's radar is on the fritz." A symptom of how much she'd told him of the shuttles systems had to be gutted he was sure, but he didn't say that and instead let her vent. "I had to burn the engines in that, but the thermal bank should still have long enough on it. We just need to make the jump and head out of the system and we can vent. Are you okay, John?"

"Yes." He'd nearly fallen, bruising his off arm a bit instead, but he was fine. Perfect working order, but he knew reporting even the small bruise could upset the Commander. "I'm going to recheck the thermal banks again."

"Understood, good call, Rook." She called back to him over a shoulder, running a diagnostic herself. "I'm green across the board again, so I'm turning back to the Relay. Cerberus has a few small groups heading there now, damaged it looks like…"

"The banks are clear as well, Ma'am." She nodded and he joined her, sitting in the chair beside her and looking ahead of them. Miles away still, he could see three ships moving towards the Relay in a formation, each sporting moderate damage. "We're going to use the debris they shed as a cover."

"Yep."

"Have you done this before?"

"Yep." She added, clicking her tongue as she cut the engines to let them drift silently. Turning to look up at him, she smiled slightly and returned to gazing out the window. "In training, for my En-Seven designation, they had us practice infil tactics. How to camouflage our armor with paint, to blend in to whatever we needed," she gestured with a jerk of her head to the floor, her breastplate, as an example, "survivalist tactics so we could deploy for long periods without support, and how to make jumps like this."

"Hm." It made sense, given the job the N7 corps tended to be given.

"Did the, uh… I forget the name, gimme a second here." She snapped her fingers after a second of thought, grinning ear-to-ear at the remembrance. Still, while her eyes sparked with mirth, they were duller and more listless than normal, and he found himself worrying. "Helljumpers, yeah? Didn't you learn stuff like this, minus the Relays and all that of course, but same principles?"

"Survivalism yes, the rest no." He answered quietly, the woman humming as she turned to continue listening. Asking for more, but not pressing him, the way she handled everything between them. Sighing, he continued, "ODSTs are infiltration-saboteurs, deployed via transport or drop-pod. Transports like ours are unable to use Slipspace, and if they were, they'd be detected exiting into normal-space."

"So no… Analogue to what we En-Sevens do, huh? Not directly, at least." She clicked her tongue and sucked her cheek, then shrugged. "Makes sense, I guess, for our jobs to not be direct parallels."

"Why ask?"

"Just passing the time while we drift, have a few more minutes 'til we hit the Relay." She shrugged, jerking her head towards the passenger compartment and reached for her breastplate on the floor, starting to put it on while she spoke. "Go get ready, once we jump we're bee-lining to the planet. We land in the forest near the Prothean site, scout it out, secure any information we can, and get whatever the hell is down there. Clear?"

"Ma'am." He nodded, turning to do as she'd asked as they neared the glowing, blue Relay and the Cerberus ships moving towards it with energy arcing along their hulls.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

They landed two miles north of the dig site, opposite the work area and living quarters that had cropped up in the first few weeks after the Prothean site had been discovered and before Cerberus had arrived. There, they'd ripped the insulating fabric out and cast it overhead, pinned to four trees and stretched out wide over the shuttle. Any craft looking for them would pass overhead, and the heat-canopy would hide them well enough from anyone that wasn't looking for them.

That done, they'd assembled the recall beacon for when they returned. Long range, tied into the Normandy's quantum entanglement and connected to a Turian dreadnought in the cluster just like it. A short burst, static and nothing more, that would burn out the small power source on both inside four seconds. The captain of the Turian ship would receive it and send everything he had to the Relay, and they would be picked up there by the Turians and returned to Tuchanka.

A lot of moving parts, but they knew they could get in, and _both_ were equipped with detonation charges to destroy the data banks they would find. Along with anything else that looked good for the charges and _expensive_ for Cerberus, to quote the Commander. Onboard the Turian ship, information useful on Eden Prime would be given to a single Turian agent and sent back to the planet, where he would join the Eden Prime Resistance and combat Cerberus ahead of a Turian assault months later.

Assuming even _more_ went right _after_ their mission, but that wasn't for him to worry about it question. Not until, and un _less_ , he was asked to.

"Eden Prime Resistance is going to be staging riots, big ones, in about ten cities on the other side of the planet." Shepard explained, kneeling beside the shuttle's open door and holding her arm at, casting a map of the planet with her Omni-Tool that shifted as she spoke, designating locations and zooming in. "A contact nearby said they saw mass troop mobilization away from the Prothean site, to deal with it. That'll buy us a few hours to get in, do what we need, and get out."

"Hm." Hit and run, then. "Are we going to be eliminating targets in the operation's area?"

"Yes." She nodded, and from the way her shoulders straightened and she sucked in a breath, she grimaced. "If we get in there, and it _is_ the skeleton crew it should be, just… Doing patrols and checks, because they won't have workers in there to see that Cerberus doesn't have as big a force as they need to _really_ occupy a planet. Then we engage, quickly and quietly as possible, whittling them down until we can't hide it anymore."

"Understood." It was as good a plan as they could hope. Flexible enough to adapt to whatever they found, simple enough to be followed if one of them were cut off or killed. "If something happens, where's our rally point?"

"If we get separated… We rally here, and if either of us aren't here at sundown, then the signal gets sent and the shuttle gets packed up." He nodded, it was more than reasonable and more than fair, neither of them could or _would_ risk everything for the other. The war was too big to do that. "Target priorities are officers and armor, the Eden Prime Resistance fighters can deal with infantry. But Atlases and coordinated tactics? They'll be decimated, even _with_ Turian support. They're coming to support our alliance, but the Turians won't lose a fleet's worth of infantry for a Human planet."

"Hm." Politics. Selfish, dishonest, politics. Rather than respect alliances, they'd leave innocent people to die to keep their people satisfied. Annoying… But understandable, in a dark kind of way. "Understood, Ma'am. Is there anything else?"

"Nope." She popped the 'p' sound, jerking her head to the side, towards their destination. "We just have to march _really_ fast, to get there on time. Like the meanest son of a bitch sergeant from boot camp is right on your ass, Rook."

"The meanest sergeant…" He shuddered at the memories _that_ brought up, the echoes of the words ringing in his ears, and Shepard noticed the slight flinch and shudder that went through him. But he rose before she could question it, plucking his submachine gun from his hip and shouldering it. "Ready to move, Ma'am."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Slinking, crouched and bowed over like a cripple but with his M7S pointed ahead and sweeping in a small semi-circle in front of him, he walked quietly over the roof towards the edge of one of the many pre-fabs that had until now continued endlessly. His VISR pinged around him, highlight entrance and exit points, thin parts of the roof where the two of them would be audible as they moved, and pinging off movement. Hesitating for a moment, he set his M7S on the roof and drew his Magnum while Shepard crouched mutely behind him, facing the way they'd come and scanning the roofs around them for anything worrying.

Laying almost prone, on his toes and with his off hand holding his chest barely an inch above the metal roof, he poked his head over and swept the weapon across the alley. He saw nothing and, as he had been doing, pinged electronics with his VISR and found nothing that would or could be a monitoring device. Straightening and swapping his Magnum for his M7 he whispered, "Clear."

Without another word, he dropped from the roof and knelt, his M7 facing the street at the ready in case he'd missed something. Shepard joined him a moment later, close enough the curve of their spines touched, with her Avenger pointed towards the end of the alley where it curved around to connect to another street. They waited four seconds before either moved, and when they did they did so together, rising in the same spots they had landed in.

Shepard clicked her tongue and he glanced over his shoulder, the woman pointing to him and then the ground where he stop, then making a 'hold' signal with an open hand and then pointing at the area just around him with a finger, making a slow circle with it to say where she wanted him. Then she tapped her helmet and pointed ahead of herself at the corner, making a small circle with a hand like she was using a telescope to presumably look around. Understanding, he gave her an 'okay' symbol with his right hand and moved to the side, kneeling behind a dumpster there in the otherwise empty alleyway for cover.

" _Clear."_ Her voice whispered in his ear over their communication unit. " _I have eyes on our approach down into the dig site itself. No Cerberus yet."_

"Hm." Odd, even with a skeleton garrison for the area he'd thought they'd have _something_ in the area. Standing, he glanced through a window beside him that had been left slightly cracked to let a breeze in and saw little out of the ordinary. A chair on its side in an otherwise immaculate area with cerberus designs on the wall. "Moving to you." He said after a second, VISR pinging again for anything troubling and coming back empty.

She looked over her shoulder when she heard his approach, the ODST just barely catching her hard green eyes through her visor before she turned back and nodded ahead of them. "Drop off there, I can see the ramp we need to head down going out from under it. We take that down, which should open out right on the dig area."

"I'll take point." It made sense, his weapon was better suppressed than her own. She grumbled about her own, poorly suppressed, weapon but nodded regardless and swapped places with him so he could lean against the corner.

A fault of Mass Effect technology was that weapons had to be _engineered_ to be suppressed rather than having an attachment that was cheap enough to bother using. And such weapons were rare as well, usually, and cost an arm. The modular variants attached to weapons also cost a leg too, _and_ crippled the weapon's muzzle velocity and grain size-to-fire. Which with how _this_ technology worked, directly affected the damage output of a weapon.

"There's a lab on the right, or that _looks_ like one." Shepard went on, pointing her rifle at the building in question. Not that she needed to, it was the only one _on_ the ramp. "We get in there, we get a layout of the area if we can. And any data they have that's useful. To us, or the Turians and the EDR."

"How do you want to approach it?"

"I'll go up on the roof and find a way inside the building itself, look around and use my Omni-Tool to hack whatever I find." Seeing as she was the only one that knew how to do _that_ , he didn't have any argument. She pointed ahead of her, at the corner, and went on, "You get there and post up, keep an eye out. My 'Tool has a short range radio jammer, and I'll kick it on, so you hear a scuffle inside and you come in through the front. Use whichever guns is quietest and back me up."

"Understood." She nodded and he took that as his cue, standing in his half-crouch with his back bowed and his M7 pointed ahead.

He hesitated at the end of the alley, eyes staring unfocused ahead of himself while he listened for _any_ noise aside from his own breathing or the breeze blowing by. After several seconds he clicked his VISR off, the green highlights and thermal detectors would only make seeing harder in the instant he stepped around the corner, and took a deep breath.

The small boulevard was meant for walking, not vehicles, and so was narrow and empty, rowed by cement planters too short to use for cover. Across the little paved road, a small railing had been erected for safety along the cliff edge, which was also largely useless to them for cover. The unfortunate choice was the one he took, stepping out of the alleyway and looking first left and then right for anything dangerous like a child looking both ways to cross a road, and listening for any reaction besides. When none came he stepped sideways, glancing to the railing to measure his pacing and then turning in a circle to keep his eye on every direction until he reached it.

Kneeling and glancing over the edge to check the distance, around ten feet and nothing he'd not made before, he nodded and gave Shepard an 'okay' symbol. She returned it and he laid a hand on the railing, vaulting it in one go. His legs protested as he landed and his hand helped to watch him, forcing a grunt from his throat before he could stop himself, but he rose in his half-crouch without hesitating and scanned the area immediately ahead of him. Seeing it was clear he moved to the close edge of the building and knelt there to catch his breath from the fall and, more importantly, send a 'Clear' message to Shepard.

He heard her drop with a quiet grunt of her own, and the sound of her armor impacting as well, and gave her a look as she moved towards him. She gave him a quick nod and he slid forward, letting her occupy his spot on the corner. The woman behind him stood a bit taller as they moved forward, her rifle over his off shoulder though he knew she'd be watching her motion tracker behind them as they went. They stopped halfway down the path at the ladder, nestled between a line of air ducts on one side and a heavy pipe that likely funneled power and water both into the area, given that it hit the ground and turned to head the way they came, and then climbed the cliff they'd dropped down and vanished into the earth there.

"Plant one of the small remote charges on the pipe, where it'll damage the building too." She ordered, collapsing her Avenger and putting a hand on a rung of the ladder. "I'll scout out ahead and tell you what I see."

"Hm." He nodded, setting his M7 against the side of the ladder while she climbed and quickly fishing out one of the small metal disks, barely the width of his hand and half that thick. He flicked a small green switch on the charge and tucked it between the pipe and the wall, facing up and covered in some leaves and dirt that would make it just a touch harder to find.

"Plenty of cover up here to hide behind, so I'm moving to the front edge." He didn't bother telling her to stay low and avoid attention, he knew she'd already know it. Instead he simply clicked his communicator on and off twice in an 'acknowledged' signal and hope she got it. He assumed she did because a moment later her voice came back over the link, quieter now in spite of her helmet being audio suppressed, "Four in the courtyard in front of the building, two over by the cliff, one at the bottom of the front ladder down, and one at your corner."

Internally, he swore at the bad luck - or proper placement of Cerberus' troops, as they seemed to have withdrawn from the edges of the small work-settlement to protect the important items - and thanked Shepard for her scouting. Peeking around the corner would have gotten him caught and now as he moved towards it, he did so with more care for his sounds and knowing not to let himself lean around the corner at all. Instead, he pressed against the wall a few inches back from the corner, and clicked his communicator at Shepard again.

"I can see inside through a ladder-hatch." Her voice came back a second later, voice cutting out as she no doubt used the vantage to get a proper look inside. "I see a couple Engineers inside, working on weaponry and… One's on a computer, doing something I can't tell what. Has to be related to the Prothean Site or Cerberus' activities though. Neither are paying attention, and motion tracker isn't registering anything else."

"Are you going to engage?"

"Yeah." She paused, presumably to plan, and then her voice piped up in his ear once again. "I'm going to kill the two Engineers and then open the door that Trooper is beside. You make a noise, he turns, door opens up, he turns _back_ and catches my Omni-Blade in his throat. Then you come around and drag him behind your corner."

He clicked the communicator again, attaching the M7 to his armored thigh with the maglocks and drawing his knife in his right and his M6 in his other, just in case. The knife was curved and heavy, long as his forearm and thick as his pinky, of Krogan design and a gift directly from Wrex. The handle was wider than he needed, but firm and balanced with the knife itself, wrapped in aged leather that gave it super grip.

A perfectly functional weapon to replace his lost one.

A couple minutes passed with the black-armored soldier waiting behind the corner before he heard Shepard's signal and banged his arm against the metal wall. It had the desired effect, he assumed, because he heard the Cerberus soldier murmur a curious question and then heavy boots moving towards him.

With an electric whir, the door around the corner opened and the soldier grunted a confused, "Wha-"

The sound was cut off by the hissing of boiling liquid and he moved, wrapping hs gun hand around the man's face, he yanked and buried his knife between the plating on his front and back, the metal stabbing up under his ribs just in case and as much to kill him as for leverage to move the heavy body. He saw Shepard recede and the door shut, the ODST hauling the man around the corner and hurling him onto the ground as carefully as he dared waste time on before he slid back against the metal wall with his gun-hand held across his body towards the corner readily.

"No response, they missed it, or they're faking for some reason. But I doubt that, they didn't even _respond_." Shepard said quietly after a full, tense minute of waiting. "Check him for anything useful and report in."

He sent the clicks again and turned, swapping his weapons out again and first checking if the man was somehow alive. He very much wasn't, blood pooling out of the knife wound in his side that had no doubt cut up into the arteries around his heart and head barely attached by his spine and cauterized meat around it. Checking him for anything interesting and finding nothing, he rolled him over against the wall haphazardly, then palmed some of the blood and made a streak on the wall at his approximate head height. The gun he laid by the corner, far enough back to not be seen, and then he drew his knife and plunged it twice more into his side in awkward stabs that went around his original one.

Now it looked like he'd been ambushed around the corner by some resistance fighter or upset family member that hadn't known what they were doing. Which would discourage them looking around and finding _his_ bomb. Then he plucked the small grenade off the dead man's belt and looked it over, considering trapping the body for a moment before setting it on his belt instead when he couldn't discern how the small orb worked beyond the red button he presumed would set it to detonate.

No time to spend figuring it out, and without it he couldn't safely rig his trap. Better not to.

Sheathing the knife on the back of his waist, he flicked on his communicator, "Nothing on him, Ma'am. If they didn't react to that, they must have left behind their weaker fighters to do patrols and staffing and sent out their better ones to fight."

"Must mean they're even worse staffed than we thought… That'll be useful to tell the Turians, means they can push harder." She sounded pleased but also oddly thoughtful and distracted, but a moment later she spoke again. "I'm in their computers here, this is they're maintenance area apparently. They usually have Atlas units here, four of them, but they've all been assigned to units and are listed as 'deployed.'"

Which meant they _weren't_ here or nearby enough to matter, since the Eden Prime fighters were only supposed to be fighting hundreds of miles away.

"Any access to a unit roster?" It would help, but he doubted it would be in the same place. It wouldn't make any sense for it to be, after all.

"No, just armored units, transports, and heavy weapons..." Shepard answered quickly, the ODST grimacing but accepting the answer. "But if that's the case, let me check and see if I can do something." A few seconds passed before she spoke again, now sounding hurried and anxious. "Okay, I have access to their shuttle-tracking systems. There's one on it's way back, and it has an Atlas."

That they couldn't bring down with their weaponry, she didn't need to add and he didn't need to point out. Instead he simply asked, "How do you want to handle this?"

"You told me your magnum had an integrated scope feature, right?" Two clicks, a yes to her question, and while she sounded aggravated as she spoke and he assumed it was because of that, she didn't dwell on it. Instead, "Alright, I'm going to rush the furthest one on my right, you dome the two by the cliff."

"We do that fast, and we move on to the bridge. I have a map here that says their communications hub is over there, and their lab with it. So once we get spotted crossing that bridge, which would have happened anyway as out in the open as it is, we're on a timer." The plan was simple enough, if rushed considering their circumstances. "Unless you have a better plan? I'd like a better plan."

He didn't because she was right, the black bridge that hung out over the chasm below and connected to the other courtyard _was_ open air. They'd get spotted moving across it, so he just sent back a simple, "No."

"Okay, once you pop them I'll move." He clicked his communicator again, moving towards the corner with his Socom in his main hand and his M7 gripped in the other, a hand on the pistol grip and the butt tucked against his shoulder. "Ready when you are, Rook."

Taking a steadying breath, he sidestepped a few times until he could see the back of one of the Cerberus soldiers and knelt down, the Magnum aimed at them for a few seconds before he saw the one facing roughly towards him jerk his helmet towards him and flinch. He fired two quick rounds, both of which punched into his helmet with the muted 'thwips' of his advanced suppressor. The second shouted something he couldn't make out and spun, grey rifle snapping towards him, but two more rounds punched into his helmet as well before he could actually fire. Quickly stepping around the corner, his Magnum snapped to the only movement he saw in time to see Shepard yanking her glowing blade out of a Trooper's stomach, letting him fall away and turning to nod at him.

"Now, we run. I'll get there first and draw fire for you, roger?" She said, rolling her shoulders and then launching from where she stood when he nodded.

The ODST's legs pumped their hardest, taking long strides across the dirt as the Specter drew away from him, the lithe and lighter armored woman more suited for displays of pure speed. A burst of rifle fire slammed into her chest, sparking blue as her shields caught it and her arm snapped up with her Predator in her hand. Five rounds barked from it in loud consecutive cracks that rolled across the open area, and he saw the closest Trooper on the other end fall, his running turned into a tumble that sent his limp frame off the side of the metal bridge and over the edge of the chasm below it.

More gunfire answered, eight Troopers moving into the courtyard on the other end of the bridge emerging from buildings as though summoned by magic, slamming into cover as Shepard's impossibly accurate returning fire cut down two more. The woman slammed her shoulder into one of the struts sticking up from the platform hard enough he heard metal hit metal and the woman cry out, but she pushed off it and launched towards the Cerberus soldiers impossibly fast as though the pain didn't bother her.

Grabbing the nearest strut on the platform to pull himself to a stop instead of replicating her stunt, he raised his Socom and emptied it into a Trooper standing in the open a hundred feet away. The rounds, influenced by the range and his own suppressor, glanced off the heavy armor with little gain save making the soldier jerk in kinetic response. His rifle snapped towards him, before his _head_ snapped back under a burst of automatic fire from Shepard's Avenger as the woman slammed into cover by the body and it fell over the crate behind him next to her.

On that side of the bridge, three rows of crates stacked up man high between the two buildings. Behind the front two rows, the five remaining Cerberus soldiers huddled - spread out evenly enough that they could fire on Shepard from several different angles with more relative safety. The woman rose, letting rounds spark harmlessly off her body as she fired long bursts into two of them and they collapsed in bullet ridden piles laid over the second row of crates, before he joined her behind the cover.

"Which building is the lab we need?" He asked, the woman glancing at him from behind her helmet and jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the left hand one.

Nodding, he rose and turned, pulling the grenade off his belt and pressing the little button to arm it. It flashed red and he stepped out of cover, shields sparking as rounds slammed against him, and threw it towards the other building. It hit the wall and bounced, landing a dozen feet away behind the third row of crates. It went off with a loud crack like lightning, hurling the crates forward and scattering the Cerberus fighters. A crate crushed one before he could move and Shepard leapt over her crates with a howl like a banshee.

Her glowing blade hummed through the air as the two Cerberus Troopers backpedaled, rifles coming up to fire on her. She cut down through one's rifle and then lunged forward, and in one smooth motion, impaled him on it and crouched, the dying soldier falling across her shoulders and shielding her from the desperate burst of fire that the other dumped into their brethren. His M7 sounded in muted, dull thwips, a dozen rounds ripping into his back before the Cerberus drone stumbled forward under the weight of fire with one hand clutching at his bloodied back. Then finally, he fell to his knees, then his stomach and went still.

"One, don't throw grenades without warning me. _Especially_ Cerberus grenades." Shepard started as he moved towards her, the woman trading out one thermal clip for her at _least_ mostly spent one. "Two, clear that building, and plug this," she held up a small chip the size of his thumb, "into something in there. A main console, if you can find it."

"Ma'am." He nodded, unperturbed by her chastising remarks and turning to the building while she moved off towards the lab building.

The crates had been scattered from the explosion, the uniform rows broken up now and mixed with the now dead Cerberus fighters. The side of 'his' building had also been blackened by the explosion, rips in the metal curling away up the wall. Inside, the small building was predictably designed. A long center column and thick metal walls, all lined with computer terminals.

Some were now damaged, along the wall where his grenade had gone off, but the rest hummed with life and he could pick out communication consoles and radar monitoring ones among them. A communications building, which meant that this chip would probably

"John…" Shepard's voice sounded pained and stiff, cracking as she said his name, and he flinched. "John, I found what they dug up and… And I'm going to open it, I know how. Get over here."

"On my way." He jammed the chip into the biggest of the computers and turned, planting his two remaining charges on either end of the building and then jogging out the door and towards the other building.

Inside that one, the walls were rowed by thicker computer banks and terminals, all humming warmly like the other building's. But instead of radio and radar consoles, these were smaller screens with more seats for more workers, and monitoring equipment displaying data feeds he couldn't understand. In the middle was a long, black cylinder laid out on a pedestal that looked to be made of the same material.

"This fucking war…" She was typing away at a pad on it when he stepped behind her, her helmet on the ground next to her. "First a god damn dimension hopper, or whatever _you_ are, then EDI gets a damn body, and now…" The pod hissed and she smiled, shaking her head slowly in disbelief as she rose. "Liara is going to _kill me_ for not bringing her along."

"Why?" She stood, pushing against one end of the pod's lid while he pushed the other at a look from her. "What is it?"

"Because this is a _Prothean_ , alive and well and that means- Hand!" Her warning came too late, the green fingers fastening around his wrist and sending what felt like electricity along his body. Another grabbed his armor and as he stumbled back on stiff legs, Shepard grabbed both their arms to try and break the alien's grip and pull him away.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Shepard blinked at the sunlight, before her rounded visor polarized and she heard a man in front of her rasp, her eyes snapping down to a man dressed in matte black armor and bleeding from several wounds. She reached for her pack, words coming out without her actually speaking them, "Sir, you're wounded, I need to-"

"Shut up and listen, Rookie!" He grunted, adjusting himself with one arm and startling her with the tone. Firm, resigned, accepting of what they both knew from his wounds and the blood flowing would mean. "There's something important I have to tell you. About friends. Betrayal. Loss. If you keep your head up and do what I tell you, you might even live long enough to tell someone what happened here…"

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Rookie's particle rifle came up, cutting down one, then two and then three, then four Husks as they rushed towards him and he backpedaled with his partner at his side. Primitive projectile weapons scattered fire around them, and he felt several impact his armor and jar him before he heard his fellow cry out and he turned. The man limped back, one arm clutched against his side weakly while his particle rifle lanced awkwardly in single-handed fire.

Roaring, he turned as the green energy of elemental power flowed around him and blasted out at the gun-armed abominations. The energy struck them, dissolving them as he turned and rushed to his fellow, "Come, brother, we must get inside. Computer, seal the bunker! We have been betrayed and must hope that the bulkheads can hold out on their own."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Javik shoved the cripple into the pod before the ship shuddered violently around him and jerked, nearly yanking him free as the gravity well began to take hold of him. The man looked at him, their eyes meeting, and cried out, "Shepard!"

Again it rocked and he managed to fist the launch mechanism before he was wrenched from the wall. He floated free for a moment before an explosion sounded and he _cracked_ against a wall hard enough to see stars. Literally, by the time his sight returned and he saw pieces of his ship drifting by and blackness around him as he was thrown away. Then his helmet chimed a warning and he felt something come loose, gasping for air and reaching back to the tube that pumped air into his helmet.

He realized far before he turned, jerking at the tubes desperately, that he was going to die out here.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 **To note for everyone as my gun fights are… Cluster fucky at the best of times, John and Shep shared a kill, then he picked off two more while Shep killed another. Then he killed another with his grenade - a crate got him - an Shepard got the rest, with assistance from our resident ODST. Hope you all enjoyed what I wrote either way, though.**

 **I** _ **may**_ **misquote things from time to time, I can't find direct game or book quotes for Javik, Gage or the like. I ask for patience in dealing with that… Honestly unforeseen outcome. Which is why this mission was different than in-game, because I wanted a more stealth-centric, duo mission. And it makes kind of sense considering the politicking happening between the various militaries, for Turians to be fighting Cerberus on Human worlds and such and such.**

 **Also to explain the last three scenes, these are being experienced by the characters through the Prothean contact information sharing. In-game, Shepard saw Javik's last moments after seeing the others in those data stores, and here she saw the important ones too. Rookie gets all of them, though, while Shepard gets Dirt and afterwards, and Javik gets to 'die'.**

 **All because Shepard serves as a translator between then two** _ **and**_ **a link for the information. Just wanted that explained to everyone in more detail.**

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **7th Maniac :**_

 **I hope this satisfied as a realistic display of him in a stealth op, with a mixed in ambush firefight on top of it. I hope both went well enough.**

 _ **SSJ 1998 :**_

 **I won't rush a romance, promise. I've honestly got the ending and midpoints of this story preplanned, the romance or lack thereof is** _ **pure**_ **organic character growth. If it genuinely works for them to get together and get in bed, I will. If them dating but not being physical works, do that too. If them being best friends, or like siblings, works, then that will be the route that goes.**

 _ **Yexius :**_

 **About that~**

 _ **Predator 1701 :**_

 **This is actually based largely on my interpretation of various things. Including Rookie's lack of voice lines, constant napping, and efficiency on his own in the field. I'm glad it is pleasing.**

 _ **Guest I :**_

 **Javik doesn't get to see** _ **that**_ **, he gets to experience something else instead. While Shepard and Rook experience things too, things to that tactile memory sharing and Shepard's connection to both of them in that moment.**


	11. Chapter 11

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"What is wrong with my soldier, Prothean?" She demanded loudly, head throbbing in the same rhythmic thrumming as when she'd touched the Beacon on this very planet. Pointing at him where he lay, propped against the wall by, she demanded further, "What's wrong with him? He's not even moving, and my HUD says his vitals are way too low to be conscious and too high to be asleep."

"He's going through mental shock from an unprepared, weak mind attempting to absorb all the sensory input of whatever he saw all at once. Combined with the forced translation of my language into his mind, along with _everything_ I knew of my time and world." The ancient alien glanced over a red-armored shoulder, seeming to raise a scaly brow in a distinctly Human gesture. "This is where I would tell you to imagine an entire lifetime, culture and language being crammed into your brain over the course of a moment, but you know what that does already. Do you not?"

"His mind isn't weak." She knew _that_ for a damn fact now, even looking at his semi-conscious body she felt a tremor of fear worm through her heart. The Prothean hummed, obviously unconvinced, and she instead asked, "What do we do to help him? We have to move, Cerberus has _got_ to be on its way."

"I know all you did, and my mind is advanced enough to process the foreign information for use." He waved a hand at himself, smirking, "Hence my speaking in your primitive tongue instead of my imperial one."

"Knock the 'primitive' shit off while we're deployed, Prothean. Especially when you put one of _my men_ on their ass." She didn't have time for it and, luckily enough, he seemed to understand that as well and inclined his head understandingly at the demand. "Now I'm asking twice because you're an endangered species and I haven't made any of _those_ extinct yet. What do we do about him?"

"In my time, he would be left to die. Perhaps with traps laid on or around him to slow the Reapers, unless we executed him for the mercy of it." He gave her a look that spoke of weariness and quietly said, "I suppose that is, as your species would say, 'off the table', however?"

"Off the table, down the toilet, and spaced into the fucking _sun_."

"Then we must leave, _now_. We have no other options but to do that and simply hope it works out, as grand a strategy as _that_ is." With a tired sigh, the alien reached down and plucked the fallen submachine gun from the ground, standing and turning to her. "You will have to carry him, I am afraid. My touch would send him spiraling into-"

Suddenly, the ground quaked violently under them, and they slammed against the wall, one to each side of the door with Shepard covering the downed and unconscious 'Trooper with her own body while Javik was on the other side, holding a humming and glowing green rifle in his hands. Outside, hidden behind a massive and spreading smokescreen that obscured where they had come from at the base of the ramp earlier, a massive hulking form loomed forward with heavy, trundling steps. Above it, a black and white Kodiak came to a halt, doors sliding open as a dozen Cerberus troopers dropped from twenty feet up, landing scattered around the lumbering form of the Atlas.

"Atlas..." Shepard said quietly, watching the Cerberus soldiers fan out across the area and smiling, raising a hand as her 'Tool flickered to life and grinning. Seeing this, Javik looked to her in question, and she explained simply, "Shouldn't have landed their armor next to their _fuel stores_."

The explosion shook them even more violently than the semi-atmospheric entrance that had sent shockwaves across the area. As they watched, the engineering building exploded first in three small charges like little puffs of light and smoke that had the Cerberus soldiers kneeling or running for cover in an instant and instinctive response. The _second_ explosion was so bright Shepard's eyes winced at it, electric blue and wafting orange fire spewed for a dozen feet in every direction while the blue of refined Element Zero fuel ignited and burned at the same time in a raging inferno of pure energy that atomized everything caught in it and blackened anything on its edges beyond recognition.

Four Troopers, investigating the building itself, were thrown back by the first explosions and then _atomized_ along with most of the ground and two other Cerberus soldiers as the Eezo flared outward. And the Atlas, lumbering towards the ramp to keep an eye on the Troopers and to support them with its heavy weapons, lurched as the powerful explosion slammed into it, and then sparked as the Eezo fuelled energy washed across it from its cannon-armed right side to its claw-armed left.

Finally, the concussive and heat filled blast wave slammed into their building, shattering windows and shaking it again like a cage in a giant child's hands. She and the Prothean seized the opportunity, stepping through the door one after the other and sending bursts of fire and lances of particle energy across the space between them and the drunkenly staggering Troopers. Several staggered towards, or away, from them but did so lethargically and weakly, stumbling like toddlers until their fire ripped into them and threw them to the ground smoldering, blackened earth beneath them.

She watched the Atlas, side glowing molten orange and sagging, try to rise once before Javik stepped past her, glowing brightly green and with his hand outstretched. As she watched, three tendrils of Prothean Biotics lashed out against the cockpit like whips, carving through the softened armor, cracking glass and the man inside like hot knives attached to a whip and sent through the snow. With a flick of his hands, the tendrils _snapped_ outwards in three different directions, ripping the front of of the Atlas wide open and tossing it onto its back with a dull, surprisingly wet thud.

What once had been green and grey civilization, short grass pock-marked with flowers and cut through by small railings and the like, was now a black crater cut into the ground. The building had been melted down to a couple feet of glowing, sparking energy, water flowing out of a pipe in the ground where the cliff had been sputtered out onto the metal and sent steam crawling into the air. Towards the edge of the cliff, the ruined Atlas and dead or dying Cerberus soldiers lay.

"I got him, you keep an eye out." Shepard ordered shortly, turning and stepping back into the laboratory, pulling Rookie onto her shoulders and heaving him up with a grunt. Stepping through, she handed the Prothean his submachine gun and pistol and drew her Predator, "You lead, I follow. Since you said you had _all_ my knowledge, I'm assuming you know where we need to go?"

"Indeed, Jane. I shall endeavor to protect you, assuming you can keep my pace properly." He bowed his carapaced head and turned, loping off towards the smoldering ruins almost like a predator.

Rolling her eyes, she made to follow him without a word.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Forward, Shepard! I will follow!" The Prothean cried as they ran through the forest, the armored and unconscious form across her shoulders sparking as a stray round glanced off its shield. Howling in anger, the Prothean stepped out from behind the tree fully, energy lancing out before him and ripping the Cerberus soldier who had done it in half while he bellowed at the other pursuers, "Face the wrath of the ancient power you dared think you could use, Reaper pawns!"

Behind her, the elastic and electric sounds of the Prothean Biotics faded along with the cries and the gunfire. She never hesitated, knowing somehow _precisely_ how capable he was with his rifle even though she'd never seen him before today. Or seen him fight with it much either, he tended to use his odd Biotics to rip and tear at his enemies if he could manage it without too much trouble.

Damn mind meld, or whatever it was, had wreaked havoc on her and John but at least it had _that_ use.

"Sorry about _this_ , Rook. But hey, it's fine, Mama Shep'll tuck you in for bed. Maybe read you a story later." She grunted with effort borne of carrying him all that way and running the entire time, stepping into the shuttle when she got there and dumping him onto a cot unceremoniously and wrapping several thick ties around his chest to keep him tucked. With a foot, she flicked on the beacon for the Turians, watching it flare to near neon light for two solid seconds before sparking out of existence. "Not that the stealth part of that is important anymore, but hey, we need the ride…"

Ducking back inside and tossing her helmet on the cot beside John, she went to the cockpit and started the minutes long process of getting it up and running. No sooner had the engines kicked on, the shuttle hovering an inch off the dirt floor, did she hear something thud into the cockpit and turn, Predator leveled at Javik, his rifle steaming and the alien looking exhausted flopped out on the shuttle floor.

"Shepard-"

"Yep." With the press of a button, she sealed the cockpit - damn the tarp and everything else, Cerberus could have it - and took off, screeching into the sky. "Hold on back there, gonna take a sharper climb than I did coming down."

"Must you do that? " Javik asked, bracing himself regardless and making her grin. Sighing in an almost Turian sounding way, the alien sighed and said, "But of course you do. I should have known better than to climb into something you were the pilot of."

"Yep." He really should have, with her memories and experiences in his head and all. Blinking as they rocketed up and gravity slammed her against her seat, she shouted back, "Hey, Javik, does that mean you know about-"

"I do _not_ wish to speak about the memories of yours I have subsumed. Not until I have time to sift through them and _remove_ the useless ones from my mind." She rolled her eyes but didn't comment and, after a second of silence aside from the shuttle's engines rocketing them up through the atmosphere, he added, "I hope these Turians arrive on time. I do not enjoy the idea of dying just yet."

"Well, I have the signatures of an entire Turian flotilla coming towards the planet, so…" She grinned, pushing the engines even harder to escape the Cerberus signatures on their tail, far enough to not be able to do anything but clearly _following them_. "I think we're good, don't stress over it."

"I will believe that when we are safely aboard the primitive ship, Shepard."

"Yeah, figured that would be your answer." She'd have to work on getting that racism, or whatever it was, out of him at some point… It wouldn't be conducive to her kind of ship, she just knew it.

The Miranda protocol it was then.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Shepard, what's wrong? Your message didn't-" She held up a hand as she stepped out of the shuttle, taking her helmet off and laying it on a nearby table, as she moved past the Asari to sit on a crate a few feet from the shuttle door. Anxiously, the Asari started again, "Shepard, whatever has happened, please do not leave me waiting on the news.

"Liara, I need you to take a nice, deep breath, and stay calm about what you are about to see and hear about." She said, stepping out of the cramped shuttle and enjoying the feeling of fresh air on her head for the first time in a month. Raising her voice, she added, "Everyone not Liara and myself, vacate the engineering department. EDI, tint the engineering section's windows and route camera feeds to a recording segment to be sent to Admiral Hackett. Live feed, if possible at all."

"I will route through the QEC channels then." The AI answered after Cortez and Vega, along with the few Alliance Navy members that had been there, filed into the elevator and left. "Sealing elevator access until you give the command otherwise, Commander. And video-audio connection to Admiral Hackett has been confirmed. I cited a class one priority order, and so he is watching."

"Of course, the one time I wish I _couldn't_ reach him…" Sighing, she shook her head and turned back to Liara, pointing behind her at a crate. "Sit girl."

"Shepard, I am not a pet that you can simply-"

"Sit. Girl." She intoned again, pointing twice at the crate before the Asari, with a roll of her eyes, finally did so with one leg crossed over the other with her arms laced over her chest. "Good girl. Now you get a treat. Javik, get your scaly ass out here, everything's ready as best as I can _possibly_ set this up to be any _kind_ of ready."

"Shepard, your tone with me is ever-annoying and disrespectful. Though that may be befitting of your primitive race, I am markedly _not_ a member of it." The Prothean sounded more tired than offended though, and she grinned at the small victory of her finally whittling him down from prideful indignation to tired resignation. Stepping out of the shuttle, his eyes landed on a confused looking Liara, and he asked, "This is the Asari who knows of my people?"

"Yep. Leading Prothean expert, and she helped me process the Cipher and the visions I had received from the Beacon on Eden Prime back in the day." Looking to the Asari, mouth half-open in disbelief, surprise and a sort of excitement that sparked in her eyes, Shepard explained. "The 'Prothean resource' Cerberus was trying to get under their wing was, get this, an actual god damn Prothean."

"I still do not understand why you ask your god to damn so many things, Shepard-"

"A _live_ Prothean?" The Asari leapt off the crate, launching herself close enough to Javik to nearly touch her chest against his, looking over his armor and figure like something wondrous for her, speaking with a voice high and filled with ecstatic wonder. "You must allow me to ask some questions of you! I have spent nearly a century, a decade until I have done so fully as a matter of fact, studying what little is left of your culture and peoples, and I-"

"Be calm, Asari." He cut in, stepping back from her and turning to the side, an arm held slightly up between them as though to ward her off. "I will consider answering whatever questions you have for me later. For now, we have a matter for your attendance. Something I believe only you can deal with."

"What do you need?" The shift between nearly childish excitement and crisp business was instant, and something Shepard had anticipated as the monogendered alien turned to her. "You mentioned the Prothean Cipher and the visions, so I assume something to that end is needed here as well?"

"Javik, could you explain? In detail, for the Admiral." She waved a hand around her, shrugging, and added for explanation, "Normally not how we do debriefs, and Admiral Hackett knows that too. But in a second you'll get the reason why we're doing it this way."

"My species can communicate information through touch. Total sensory inputs, and even knowledge and memory transfers. Entire languages, histories, skills and professions can be transferred from person to person in an instant." He gestured to himself, voice warbling slightly as though something were bothering him slightly as he spoke. "In my training, all the skills at arms I needed to know were granted to me in a single week of contact. Though my body had to be hardened after by physical stress."

"Such a thing sounds similar to Asari mind melding capabilities, as I understand what you are talking about." Bright eyes, full of barely contained excitement and wonder at every sound Javik made, she turned on Shepard again. "What has happened?"

"As I awakened from stasis, I suffered from long length stasis-shock, and in that condition my mind and physiology was not entirely my own." As good a way as 'I flailed in panic and attacked them' was likely to be explained by the proud alien, Shepard was sure. "As such, when I laid hands on John, my mind instinctively latched onto his in demand of information. A two way street, and one his mind was unprepared for."

"He needs help, Liara." Shepard explained, gesturing a hand at the shuttle and then the Prothean in turn. "While we were crammed in there, Javik… Maintained him, but he's a soldier and nothin' else. He doesn't know how to help reorder memories and thoughts the way your species can, and you're the only one that can meld _and_ has access to the Prothean Cipher."

"I don't have the Cipher, Shepard." She pointed out, gesturing at the commander herself with a nod. "You have it."

"I know." She sighed, scratching at her messy mop of sweat-flattened hair and grunting. "I looked it up on the 'Net while we were on the Turian ship. Asari can share memories, too, in a deep enough Meld."

"Shepard, I… That would be..." She swallowed, shaky legs carrying the young Asari back to the crate, sitting with her hands on her knees and eyes boring into the ground while she thought. "Such a deep Meld is not something done lightly, Shepard. If I make a mistake, _any_ mistake, I could permanently damage your mind alone. Much less what would be required to _transfer_ , or more likely copy over, the Cipher _into_ him."

"This… It's not his war, Liara." She waved a hand around herself, gesturing in a sweeping motion at the entirety of the Reaper War and everything it entailed. "It's not his war, not his _fight_ , but he's doing it anyway. Risking his life for planets and people that aren't in any way connected to _him_. Some of 'em aren't even _Human_ , and the only aliens he's really known have almost _all_ been trying to wipe his species out."

"He… Doesn't care. I saw his memories in that connection, _lived his life_ in large parts, and..." She went on, the two aliens - and Hackett, she knew, but couldn't bring herself to care right now - simply listening as she spoke. "That man is the one person I would understand being a raging racist, the _only one_ who if he joined Cerberus right now, I'd say he was justified. Instead, he's fighting for _us_ , and almost all of it has been on an alien world."

"But the risk…" Liara sighed, shaking her head and giving the woman a look. Searching for answers and assurances, and to make sure that her friend knew _exactly_ what was at risk. "Shepard, you will open _everything you are_ to me. Do you understand that? Every fiber of your being will be there for me to see, and change if I want to."

"I trust you not to." Shepard said simply, shrugging and continuing on without pause. "I am willing to put my very _being_ in your hands, because I trust you with it. And because my teammate needs it. He's earned _that_ at least, with everything he's been through. He doesn't deserve to be left like this."

"Then, if you truly understand… I will do it, and pray to the Goddess that it does not fail. Or worse." The Asari looked to the sky and added, in an almost pleading tone, "Assuming of course that the good Admiral does not have anything against it to say?"

"I don't like it, but there's nothing I can do about it except remand him to a medical facility. But that wouldn't stop Shepard doing what she wants about it, it's her own mind and body after all." The Admiral's voice was staticy, cast out over the ship's intercom system however EDI had connected it to the QEC for his part of the conversation. "As far as _that_ is concerned, I don't get to have an opinion. Officially at least."

"Unofficially?" Shepard asked curiously, head tilted back and brow raised in curiosity.

"Be careful, Shepard." He said simply, not expounding on it beyond that. "As for the Prothean… Do you have scientific education to help us fight the Reapers?"

"I am simply a soldier, and would like to fight under the Commander. Beyond my ability to take life, I have nothing to offer." Liara deflated slightly at that information, and the Prothean either missed it or - more likely - ignored it, leaning against a crate and closing his bright yellow eyes comfortably. "Beyond that wish, I have nothing to offer."

"I'll… Get in touch with the Council then, inform them of what's happened, and get everything on that end running. As for you yourself, Javik if I remember right..." Hackett sighed tiredly, sending static across the connection slightly before he continued, "You're welcome aboard the Normandy as far as I'm concerned. And I'm about the only one left with rank to have an opinion."

"Then I look forward to taking the fight to the Reaper threat to avenge my people." Seemingly done speaking, the Prothean relaxed against the wall and said nothing else.

"Keep me apprised of the situation as it develops, Doctor T'Soni." Hackett added as well, seemingly just as finished with the topic. "I have to get to dealing with other matters, consider the status of the Prothean classified for a while but don't let it affect how you behave. Deploy him if you want, Commander."

"Got it. Good luck, Admiral."

"Same to you, Commander." A second before his voice cut out, she heard him just murmur, "You'll need it…"

Looking at Liara the woman took a deep breath and smiled nervously, "So, Doc, how do we do this?"

"We need Chakwas, monitoring softwares, and two hospital beds." She started, standing and calling out to EDI, "EDI, can you contact Doctor Chakwas and have her get everything set up, and send a medical attendant to help us move John to the infirmary?"

"Both are underway. Please stand by."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Mister Doe, please, ret and hear me." He flinched, eyes closed against the voice and its presence, and the ache both brought. It echoed around him and through him, like the chill of the stasis pod and the bites of rounds that had pockmarked against his armor and biotic barrier. "Lance Corporal, listen to-"

He shoved the voice away with a hand, or what he _thought_ was his hand at least. He hadn't moved. Or had he?

His head hurt at the question, and he shoved that away too with the hand or whatever he was using for it. It didn't matter, all that mattered was sleep. Rest, finally, after what felt like a century or more...

The presence pushed against him again, like hands gripping at his arms but fading through them instead, and he ignored it. Three more times he felt it try before he finally snapped and asked, through the pounding in his head that only grew with each second he did not sleep, "What do you want?!"

"To help you, John. You were-"

"Then let me sleep." Again he shoved the presence away and, for a moment, he felt nothing and began to slip to sleep past the throbbing in his head.

"Gage Yevgenny would be disappointed in you." A new voice, sharper, clearer and more cutting said. Whispering the words in his ear, like a lover whispering poison. Close enough he imagined he could feel her breath on his neck. "What kind of soldier rolls over and gives up like this?"

He was tired of fighting, he wanted to sleep…

"No, no you don't." The voice said simply, "You've never just wanted to lay down and die, John Doe. You're a _Helljumper_. Feet First Into Hell is your motto, not rolling over like a whore to let life fuck you. You don't roll over for anyone."

 _Helljumper_ ….

The headache came back full force, slamming into him like a hurricane with images of a vault, broken stasis pods, Husks- And then was gone, pushed aside but a forceful hand, and replace with a broken man laying on the ground across from him while he knelt. Through unimaginable wounds and pain, the man coughed and said, "It's not just dirt, Rookie. That's what Yevgenny taught you."

Yevgenny…

The name had weight to it, grounded him, pulled his eyes awake in the inky blackness with an urgency he hadn't felt before. Looking right and left he swung his fists, snarling at nothing but enjoying the feel of moving before hands landed on his arms, fighting to force him down, and the voice returned.

"Feet First Into Hell, Rookie! Say the rest!"

"Make sure it's crowded when you get there!" He roared back hard enough his eyes blurred over. When they opened again, he was standing in a grey-steel corridor with a dozen men and women in black armor, cheering and pumping fists into the air. The woman, in form fitting black armor unlike any other in the room and standing on a raised walkway, smiled and looked straight at him. "For Earth!"

"Earth…" That name snapped sense into him, and his eyes snapped open again, sitting in a pod and looming over the jewel of the UNSC.

"Not that one." The voice said, replacing it with an image of grey, fires burning across expanses of it as it receded from vision. "Mine. Under siege by the Reapers. Reapers you're going to help me fight, Rookie. Or are Helljumpers afraid of a little apocalypse?"

Grinning, he answered back my smacking the release on his pod, plummeting impossibly fast towards it as the blue marble closed with him once again.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

His eyes snapped open, a strangled cry parting his lips as his arms flailed again, Chakwas and the large Turian form of Primarch Victus shooting back towards him to grab at him again until Liara cut them off, her voice sounding tired, strained and distracted all at once as she did. "He's fine, now, he just needs to get his bearings back and recover. Please, give him space while I bring Shepard out of it."

"Shepard…" He turned where he sat, hands idly yanking the little medical suction cups that had been attached to his bare chest off.

She was bare as he was, save for a thin bra that preserved whatever sense of modesty she had, with the same suction cups attached all along her chest and arms like he was pulling off. Her eyes were closed, and like him she was in a clinical bed with a sheet up to her waist. Her eyes closed and chest rising and falling gently, she could have been sleeping were it not for the Asari, blue hands on her head above her eyes and over her heart on her chest. Blue biotic energy flowed from the one woman and into the other and sweat beading along both their skins.

"What happened?" He asked, turning to look at the doctor with the words. "The last thing I remember is Eden Prime, the… Little pod that we were recovering."

"I am afraid _I_ can't tell you that. It's classified, and I don't know everything as a result." She gave Victus a look and the Turian sighed a warbling sigh when she added, "Primarch, if you don't mind going through it for him? I would ask Doctor T'Soni, but she's quite busy at the moment with the Commander."

"Your team encountered Cerberus agents and eliminated them, and then split up to investigate the two buildings suspected for critical data-storage. Designated A and B target, after you deal with C target." The Turian slipped into military candor almost instantly, and the ODST couldn't help but appreciate it in his state. Head throbbing, throat dry, and limbs sore like he'd marched for a day solid and gone into a firefight off it. "Commander Shepard obtained the package and data to open it and did so, calling you over as she worked on opening it. The package contained a live Prothean coming out of long-term stasis, and he touched you."

"Protheans can share vast amounts of information with simple, physical contact. In his panic and disorientation, normal for long-term stasis storage, he touched you and Shepard grabbed his arm." The Primarch nodded at the woman at that, "She possesses what is known as a Prothean Cipher. It allows her to process Prothean data like what you were given in that connection."

"Doctor T'Soni facilitated a Mind Meld between the three of you, using her own experience with Shepard, the Cipher and Prothean culture to compartmentalize the memories you were given and give you the Prothean Cipher to process what she couldn't handle herself. The good doctor is piecing Shepard's mind back together, like she did to yours. I.." He shuffled awkwardly, mandibles clicking unsurely before he continued in a quieter tone, "I don't know enough about such a deep Mind Meld to know what that entails. Only that it is dangerous."

"Dangerous?" He looked to Chakwas, brow raising, but the woman shrugged unsurely and began shutting off his monitoring equipment. "Hm…"

"This kind of deep Meld requires that I go into the person's mind and disassemble it, so that I may see everything I need to. It is dangerous because I also have to _reassemble_ a lifetime of memories once I am done." Liara sounded tired, straightening on the stool she sat on and massaging her forehead gently. Giving him a small smile, she continued, "She is fine, however. We spoke for a moment before I receded, and she will awaken soon enough."

"Then you were…" In his head, he didn't say. She nodded though, perhaps able to understand him in a truly unique way now. A thought that did as much to terrify him as to comfort him, the thought of an alien mind _in him_ to blame for the former. "I see."

"There was no other way to bring you out of the coma. Had I not done so, you would have died there. You very nearly did when we reached out to you." She said quietly, trying to reassure him as best she could and standing. Her legs wobbled under her and, like a predator lashing out after a meal, Victus moved and grabbed her to support her. "Thank you, Primarch. Such a Meld is… Taxing for the Asari doing it."

"Dangerous?" He asked her, the Asari nodding and drawing a considerate hum from him. Instinct told him aliens didn't help him still, even after everything, but his head knew better and so he added, "Thank you."

"Doc Chaaaaak, turn off the lights." Shepard moaned petulantly, rolling onto her side and pulling her sheet up to her head and blinking bleary green eyes at him. "Glad you're back in your own skin, John. No more fondling ancient aliens and absorbing their entire life experiences. Okay? Love ya to death like everyone on my team, but I don't fancy being disassembled again."

"It was your idea, Jane." The Asari sighed tiredly, standing on her own and moving towards the door. "I am getting a meal, and then going to bed. Do not disturb me for at least twenty-four hours unless the world is ending. Again."

"And now that this is all resolved, I have aftermath cleanup to work on with Wrex." The Primarch nodded his head to each of them in turn and then left, the door whooshing shut behind him.

"Nope." He paused halfway through standing up when Chakwas spoke, giving him a hard look. "You and the Commander are under observation for twenty-four hours. Get it in bed, and lay down. You both need your rest, and I am going to make damn sure you both get it in spades."

Sighing, and knowing arguing would accomplish precisely nothing, he laid down on the bed. Thankfully, the woman pigmented the viewing window and dimmed the lights for them, allowing him to relax.

"We'll talk about it later," Shepard started, his head turning to look at her where she lay on her bed, "but… I saw your memories too. Same way you saw Javik's, probably. The Prothean," she added for explanation, sitting up on her pillow in her bed and letting her head rest against the window, "his name is Javik."

"I know." And he did, which was odd since he hadn't met him. But he knew the name from memories that he couldn't recall now, not really at least.

It confused him, and so he didn't think about it.

"You're staring." Shepard pointed out, the Trooper realizing that in his distraction he had been. Grinning a cheshire grin, she asked, "Checking me out since I'm just in a bra? How naughty of you. Was this your plan to see me without some layers?"

"Shepard, don't make me give you a sedative." Chakwas threatened on his behalf when he couldn't think of a response. Looking to him, she smiled politely, "If he tried anything in _my_ infirmary, he'd become intimately familiar with it, after all. So I doubt he intended any of this as some nefarious plot to see those little things."

"Oi!" She half-shouted, pushing her bust up with her hands and pouting. "The girls are perfectly sized, Chakwas! Take it back!" The doctor hummed and simply turned back to her terminal without a word, and Shepard looked to him, "John?"

"Hm." He laid down and rolled over, ignoring her entirely, and heard her grunt of frustration.

"Fuck all y'all. I kill people good and the girls are perfect little Ds." He heard her shuffle on her bed, likely waiting on a response, and then sigh when none came. "Y'all suck. I let Liara muck about in my head, but you won't even compliment my tits? Rude!"

"They're fine." He finally grunted, more to throw her a bone than out of any interest in the subject.

"Oh!" She gasped, clapping her hands a few times and crowing, "He talked 'bout something that wasn't guns, fighting, or answering direct questions! Chakwas, did you see? He talked! His first non-combat or forced words!"

"I'm sure you're a proud mother." Chakwas sighed, giving him a saintly, sympathetic look. "And I'm sure you know you just made a rather large mistake. Aren't you?"

He just sighed, resigned to it by now, but not exactly bothered by it. She got him now, he knew. She knew _everything_ about him, and didn't treat him any different for it. And that was something he appreciated more than saving his life or anything else.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **So a quick self-advertisement, but I have officially begun work on Re:Programmed, which is an entirely original concept book series that I am writing with the assistance of several members of my little community. It will be a sci-fi story set at the turn of what I call the 'unification stage' of a civilization, where governments ally or blob together to unify the planet and start colonizing outward, and set in the aftermath of climate-based catastrophes spurring on much of that unification. The story itself will rarely if ever touch on that, though, it's just the setting.**_

 _ **We also have sex robots **throws confetti** ~ Voltegeist**_

 _ **Supporters and those community members I have already enlisted, or will enlist, in assisting with the project will get previews of what is being worked on and when regularly starting after Christmas. Which is when every weekend will be set aside by me exclusively for writing, storyboarding and the link on Re:Programmed.**_

 _ **I've spent the last couple years working towards being able to do this and can't wait to share it with all of you.**_

 _ **AND NOW THE OTHER ANNOUNCEMENT**_

 _ **A second project for my stories is launching along with this, where a member of the channel is producing read-throughs of my stories. Right now, she has one of my oldest one-shots, You Are My Sunshine read and uploaded. We've already received some good input and responses and will be improving our formula further, but I would love if any of you could give it a watch, a Like, and any input you have to offer.**_

 _ **Just search Flowey Reads or head over to the channel, or DM me directly, for links to it if you have any interest in it.**_

 _ **Also remember to comment whatever story you'd like to see done next!**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Lebenden Toten :**_

 **I am always welcome to new Supporters of any amount. As you see in the above announcement, they've brought some wonders to my life. As for old writing… I have some of mine too. Just practice is all. Also, I have a discord for people to offer insights. If you wanna, just hop over. Impiriex is a military bro too and does so as well.**

 _ **SD Phantom :**_

 **I actually role-play Shepard vocally, speaking the lines in response to John as I'm talking. Which is part of why I think she is the best character in this thus far as far as characterization and the like goes.**

 _ **7th Maniac :**_

 **The thing is, I take ODSTs in his role as less 'rip and tear' fighters and more what I showed here. Knife, marksman shots before people react, booby-trapping bodies, sabotaging locations and the like. In a punch-out fight, to me, they don't seem to excel as much in training and equipment.**

 **Glad you enjoyed it though, and there** _ **will**_ **be punchy fights in the story at whole. Just not for** _ **this**_ **one.**

 _ **SSJ1998 :**_

 **Yeah, I cheated a bit, practicing at gun-based combat with skirmishes first. Works, though, and I think I integrated that well into the story itself. As for a fight between them… Depends. In a drawn out gunfight in normal mid-range, Shepard. In a long range duel, Shepard probably again because of her heightened durability and how her skills orient towards aggressive, rushing tactics. But in, say, a drawn out battle between them based more around getting the upperhand? Rookie probably. Think Batman versus Superman here.**

 _ **Rook 115 :**_

 **Eh, just bad luck, I guess.**

 **And a dick of a god writing the events for him. XD**

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

_**Official Supporters:**_

 _ **Grand Priestess, Luna Haile -**_

 _ **High Priest, Alvelvnor**_

 _ **Priest, The Impossible Muffin**_

 _ **Priest, Xager the Chaos King**_

 _ **Acolyte, DigiDemonLord**_

 _ **Acolyte, Stonecold**_

 _ **Initiate, Greg Gibson**_

 _ **Initiate, Gentleman Mad**_

 _ **Initiate, Lebenden_Toten**_

 _ **If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our discord. Server for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, and remember to post a Review/Comment to let me know what you liked and didn't.**_

 _ **So, Fanfiction will not let me link to discord. So, I apologize to every single FF reader for this, but please PM me for a join link. And please consider doing so, I enjoy chatting with you lot. On AO3, the link is viable :**_ _ **/2UZncAm**_

 _ **If I could trick FF into thinking this is not a link here it is (delete the spaces and turn):**_

 _ **D iscord . gg (slash) kfhkfUb**_

 _ **Betas for this story so far :**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"I… Felt it good to speak to you, given what has occurred between us." The green-skinned alien started quietly after a few awkward moments, sitting on a crate in his 'quarters' in Engineering. "I… Felt that, perhaps, I should come to you and show my contrition to you regarding the debacle and the effect on you before they can harm our business relations. Though I see no need to, I understand why what happened was a fault I bear, and so I… I apologise sincerely."

"Hm." Hunched shoulders, palms pressed together and elbows resting on his knees in a sort of meditative stance similar to what he'd seen in old movies when he was younger, and eyes that bored into the floor flatly and _very_ boredly. Something he himself could only tell thanks to what had happened, he realized after a second of though and to some discomfort. Sighing, he turned back to his piecemeal Avenger on his makeshift work-table and asked, "Shepard?"

"I did not…" The alien sighed, an odd, warbling sound much like the Turian version but higher pitched and tinged by an odd trilling sound set under it. "Yes. She was quite insistent, I'm sorry to say, that I come and apologize to you after what transpired on the Human world."

"Eden Prime." He pointed out, picking up one of the myriad pieces of his rifle and wiping it down habitually. As much to keep his hands busy, and he knew himself well enough to spot the behavior. "You get used to the Commander."

"She has her eccentricities, but even among my own species and time, such was common enough for a seasoned commander of military forces. Understandable and, so long as the Prothean leaders upheld Prothean ideals and attained successes against the Reapers, accepted and forgotten." The Prothean seemed to relax slightly, if _only_ slightly, his shoulders sloping the tiniest margin imaginable and his eyes moving from the floor to the ODST's disassembled weapon curiously. Then his lips pursed in distaste and he said, "I still find it inefficient to hurl miniscule flecks of metal at your opponents, however. Reaper technology, and they are well-adapted to combating it. Aside from the inherent primitive influences, of course."

"Does the job." He pointed out, the Prothean humming appreciatively at the sentiment. "You use a particle rifle?"

"Projected particles emitted at a certain radioactive wave-length that causes a high heat reaction that can melt through most armor and cook organic components as well." The alien explained mechanically to his question, like a soldier rattling off a simple report to someone. "If you wish it, I would loan you mine for use at a shooting range, or on an operation I am not deployed to."

"A new weapon on a mission would be a liability." Unfamiliarity with his main weapon would breed mistakes, and that could get someone killed or wounded. And simply carrying _more_ weapons could slow him down and do the same. "I lack the training, so no. Thank you"

"What is the name of that kind of particle rifle?" Javik asked simply, holding up a hand in an almost pleading gesture - and he looked _very_ unhappy about that too - before he could speak. "Simply try to remember, Doe. Trust me for the briefest of moments, I know what I am doing here. Focus on, as you will recall it, _your_ training. Think of the particle rifle and a planet called Threlem. "

"..." He sighed and thought, trying to remember what he didn't know about places he'd never been and training he'd never received. An odd thought and an even odder thing to do, but he let it go and did as he was asked. "The… Four-fifty-six light particle rifle."

"Indeed. It is as I thought then, I suppose." Javik sounded pleased, even smiling thinly at the simple number designation. "The 'Cipher', as Shepard calls it, imparted to you is subliminal, in your subconscious rather than your conscious mind. The Asari woman must have done that to compartmentalize the memories there to prevent my memories and yours clashing, as a rudimentary and primitive measure to replicate my species natural ability to discern between them. So when you try to recall the information..."

"I can remember it." Not very useful to him, unfortunately, but interesting to know regardless. Maybe if he were a scientist or historian it'd be _more_ useful, but he had more important things to do than that. Speaking of… "Does that mean that you have access to _my_ memories as well?"

"Up here, yes." He tapped his large head and nodded, smiling apologetically. "I have, however, made no attempt as of yet to actually access them. Or Shepard's, for that matter, out of courtesy. And I will not unless I am required to for some unknowable reason."

"Understood." He nodded, finally realizing he'd been cleaning the same piece of his rifle for the last fifteen minutes and awkwardly setting it down. "Do you need anything else?"

"Have a good evening, Doe." The Prothean rose, bowing his head in a farewell gesture that the ODST questioned how he recognized for a split second. "I am told we will reach be deploying tomorrow on the Krogan world."

"Mission objective?"

"You, myself and the Krogan Warlord will be deploying on a rapid strike on an orbital defense facility." The Prothean said simply, half-turning to leave and then finishing, "Once that's done, we will rendezvous with Shepard and head to a location important to the Krogan for a meeting of some kind. Their female, the one on board, will apparently be present at the meeting."

"Understood." They were gathering, then, and this time Wrex _and_ Shepard would both be there alongside Eve. Beginning to reassemble his rifle, he knew what was coming. An end game for Tuchanka that would decide the course of the war itself.

"Rook!" Garrus trilled, descending the stairs with two trays of food carried in his talons, one a steaming plate of potatoes and a steak and the other a dozen thumb-shaped pieces of meat and a tube. He froze, glancing at the Prothean and stammering for a second, "Uh, hi… I didn't bring you dinner."

"No, i should think you did not, Turian." The Prothean turned once again, inclining his head respectfully, and said, "Enjoy your meal, Doe. I will see you when our feet once more share a battlefield, and look forward to what you can accomplish when not… Tragically catatonic."

"You and Shepard are the only people he doesn't call 'Turian' or 'Human'..." Garrus said quietly once the green alien had gone, shaking his mandibled head and easing onto one of the crates Rookie used for 'furniture'. "Anyway, figured you could, uh, use a bite or ten to eat. Need your strength, after what happened on Eden Prime, and… Shepard was nagging me about getting rec time."

"Okay."

"So how, uh, how are you feeling?" He gave the Turian a look, lifting a spoonful of potatoes to his lips and waiting on him to expound, and the Turian's mandibles clicked in anxiety. "No, uh… No headaches or anything?"

"Negative."

"Ah." The Turian glanced at his meal, then to the partly-disassembled rifle, and then back to Rookie. "Good. That's, uh… That's good. I, I mean we, we were all… Worried, about you, you know? So, uh, I figured I'd offer a hand… Spirits, I suck at this."

"Affirmative." The Turian sighed, and he took a bite of potatoes before offering the poor dog a bone, to avoid what would probably be an awkward silence for the Turian if nothing else. "Shepard sent you to check on me. Didn't come herself so she wouldn't seem to be smothering me."

"Yeah…" He took a large bite of one of the bars, that looked oddly cake-like but was obviously made of meat, and sighed another tired and warbling sigh. "Like I said, everyone is worried about you after what happened, even if none of us quite _understand_ what happened. Beyond Shepard carrying you in like a sack of potatoes, of course. And Shepard… Hovers over her people. Alot."

"I understand." He nodded, "I am recovering fine. Whatever procedures were done, they have succeeded. I feel fine."

"Still gonna eat with you." Garrus said simply, grinning a toothy and distinctly Turian grin at him. Shepard will, uh, drag me back down her by the mandibles if I don't. And then _she'll_ be here to pester you, too."

"Okay." Shepard was going to be the death of him at this rate… But it was fine by him, Garrus wasn't the _worst_ person to be forced to spend time with. Neither was Javik, though that was probably an unfair comparison to make after what had happened between them.

But that was enough thinking about _that_ , he had a steaming steak right in front of him.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"You go left, kill the techs, the Troopers, whatever the hell else is in there, and do it fast 'fore they try and trash the systems." Wrex grunted and shifted as the shuttle shuddered around them, the sounds of wind buffeting its armored hull familiar to the ODST now. "Take the Prothean with you, and that's a weird ass thing to say, set the bypassers, and the cannon's power will be routed to your Omni-Tool."

"And you?" He asked, Avenger held across his chest relaxedly as the shuttle ducked and weaved through the buffeting Tuchankan wind. The Krogan grinned, raising a spined brow, and he nodded understandingly, "Up the middle, into the thickest fighting."

"You know me so well, Rookie." The Krogan chortled, deep voice rumbling in his chest as always and vibrating into him. "Gonna be pissed if I don't get to see you in a _real_ fight, though. Every damn time looks like I'll get it, you get shot, or whisked off on some damn adventure halfway across the galaxy."

"I do not think that the Lance Corporal _plans_ on getting shot, Krogan." Javik said dismissively from the opposite seat from the Human soldier, eyes closed peacefully and particle weapon held across his chest in the same way that John held his. "Combat carries risks, and getting shot is one of them. You know this, I am sure."

"Yeah, it's called friendly bitching, Prothean. Friends do that sometimes, to pass the time and relax." The Krogan shook his great head and sighed, leaning back against the hull of the shuttle beside the cockpit. "Friggin' stick in the mud… Damn Turian would've been better than that, at the damn least."

"By all mean, Krogan, you are welcome to turn the shuttle around and wait until the Commander can lead this mission." Javik smiled cockily, almost a sneer but not quite reaching that, and Rookie frowned. "She, at least, would not waste our time on _bitching_ , as you so eloquently put it, and would instead give us an actual mission brief. Rather than a half-explained plan and not much else."

"Listen here you green bastard-"

"Wrex." John grunted, the sound cutting off the Krogan's diatribe and drawing his massive red orbs onto him.

He simply shook his head and the Krogan growled, a dissatisfied rather than threatening sound even as it rumbled across the space. Javik snorted when he turned a look on him as well, but nodded so slightly he could barely see it regardless and aid nothing further.

"Fine, fine, but only because I like the way you shoot things." He laughed then, the sound rumbling once more, and looked to Javik with a mildly more aggravated expression. Eyes narrowed and teeth ever so slightly bared to show their edges, the Krogan spoke, "The battery emplacement should be lightly garrisoned, I have a Warlord by the name of Gavulk leading some of his best warriors on a raid of the emplacements surrounding it. Couple dozen Krogan attack, they think they're facing a Krogan land assault, and Krogan don't _have_ air transports normally. So they wouldn't expect combined arms."

"And if they did, they wouldn't expect it of Clan Kralt either." Wrex explained further, grinning at his own cunning and seeming to revel in getting to show it off yet again. A feat he got to enjoy a lot of with the war running, John was willing to bet. "Kralt are a mountain clan from nearby, they were raidin' Cerberus even before they allied to Clan Urdnot and swore to me. They don't _have_ Tomkas, or any air power. They're all Varren and Krogan shock charges, big hatchets and bigger shotguns."

"And since Cerberus tends to gather information first and foremost whenever they wish to stay in one place for some time, you used that against them. You used the information they had on this 'Kralt' Clan to control how they would react to this operation." Javik hummed, the sound vibrating in his throat almost electrically like something synthetic and musical he'd heard once long enough ago he couldn't place it - assuming _he_ had heard it and not Javik, but that kind of thinking only made him anxious so he pushed it aside - and then the alien smirked. "I suppose some of the primitives that surround me were bound to be at least moderately clever."

"Ten minutes out from area of operation, lowering elevation to avoid detection so they don't spot us." The pilot, Cortez this time since Shepard was still preparing for the next stage of the operations and didn't intend on a combat flight to get in on her end. "Cerberus has what looks like all their air power bombing the Krogan forces a couple miles out, right on plan. Unless they have more than your scouts said, at least."

"Give 'em some support when we drop?" Wrex asked, ignoring the concern entirely and probably doing so for good reason. "They can do without it, but might give me some credit with that Clan if I send some support to save their sorry hides."

"Can do, Warlord." Cortez answered quickly, a couple seconds passing before he spoke again, "I have the heavier weapons systems spooling up now, I'll provide a bit of support for you for a bit, and then I'll make strikes against their gunships while you conduct your operation. Save some Krogan lives, eh?"

"Just make sure they can tell you're shootin' at the Cerberus gunships, or a Tomkah might give you the kind of look you do _not_ want anything Krogan giving you." Cortez didn't say anything, but he didn't really _need_ to. It was obvious that the man had heard the Warlord's warnings, and the Krogan turned to them instead. "Droppin' me in first, since I'm a Krogan Battlemaster they might buy that _I'm_ the special attack here. You boys get to known in the backdoor, hit the soft targets. Get the fun jobs as always, eh, Rook?"

"Affirmative." He nodded, smiling slightly at the wide, toothy grin that grew across the Krogan's face. "After this we cure the Genophage?"

"Yep." The Warlord nodded, face turning stony and serious so suddenly even John noticed and flinched. "This… Today decides whether my species continues existing and… I'd be lying if I said I wasn't the most scared I've been since the first time someone seriously tried to kill me who I thought could pull it off."

"I…" He sighed, taking a deep breath to steady himself, and then pushed his thoughts aside and answered curtly, "I understand."

"Yeah, figured you would." He gave the green-skinned alien with them a look and a small, almost imperceptible grin. "Figured _both_ of ya would, actually. S'why I asked for you two on this little milk run, instead of letting Clan Kralt just overrun the place. I can kinda trust you, you know what it's like to see your species at risk."

"Indeed." Javik said quietly, his first statement in some time and sounding solemn as he said it. Opening his bright eyes, he looked to the Krogan and added, "I swear to this, then. I won't allow your species to be callously tossed aside, not in the face of the Reaper threat at the very least. Primitive as you are, you're useful here, and I would not see it unjustly wasted."

"Right." The Krogan grumbled, confused at the Prothean's mixed up way of promising his help. "What I was getting to was that the Salarians don't want this cure happening, Shepard already told me all about their offers and sabotage suggestions. She and I both are worried that they might try something, since she told them to shag a Varren over it. SO keep an eye out, yeah?"

"Very well." Javik answered, eyes closing again while John simply nodded without a comment.

Salarians, from his studies on the various important species in his new home universe, tended to favor backhanded deals, sabotage, spies and assassination over anything else. 'Knowledge is power' taken to a very ONI kind of extreme he had dealt with just enough to hate it but understand it's _rare_ usefulness. Rare being a key, and almost unfairly positive, word for it for sure but still an honest one.

Not that he would allow that to cause problems _here_. Not with the Reapers threatening, but…

He didn't care about that, he found after a second of thought. The realization made him blink, hands freezing for a split-second as they moved along his rifle to do the methodical and useless last checks he always did before they landed. Last minutes before heading into the fight spent checking an ammunition stock he already knew he'd checked, and making sure his weapon that he'd spent hours on the night before worked too, wasted efforts both. And for the shortest split second, he didn't go through the motions, sheer surprise taking him nearly completely off guard.

He wouldn't let the _Salarians_ kill the _Krogan_. It had nothing to do with the Reapers or the war at hand, he didn't want _Wrex_ to lose his people. The realization brought questions but, in the same moment, the lights flicked a warning red and not even a second passed before he heard the stray shots of rifles bouncing off the armored hull of the shuttle.

Instead of dwelling on it, he simply nodded and said, "Okay."

The shuttle dove evasively from something they couldn't see, the soldiers inside bracing arms and legs for the few seconds it took to level out. Heavy, automatic guns fired ahead of it, strafing the target zone wherever Cortez thought it appropriate before the shuttle yanked back up and around, diving once more and turning along a long, easy arc while weak, low power rounds glanced off the hull uselessly. Meaningless fire that told every one of them that they were dealing with poorly trained or green Troopers, left behind while the fighters dealt with the Krogan.

Perfection, as far as they were concerned.

"Out you go, Battletoad! Got to move, they have an anti-air weapon on the right platform, command room ramp. Kill it." The door opened a split second after Cortex said it, the shuttle jerking forward as it stopped for Wrex to leap out with a bellow of defiance and rage, crackling with blue Biotics as he leapt. "Pulling off and around, Green and Black get ready for hot drop."

The next bellow Wrex let out was accompanied by a muted 'thump' of something weighty hitting something _else_ weighty, and then the sounds were lost as the door resealed and the shuttle dipped down and under the superstructure, jerking back up a few seconds later and coming to another abrupt stop. The door slid open and, wordlessly, they dropped onto the concrete and were moving, the blue shuttle peeling away behind them and off towards the battlefield they'd used as bait.

A long stride put the Prothean ahead of him, the alien staying to the left of the little hallway to give him a clear line on the distant door. The massive wall, a support struct's connection to the emplacement for the anti-orbital gun they were here for, meant that the approach was clean and clear. No sightlines to where he could hear and - when the gun wasn't firing and sending tremors across the area - _feel_ Wrex fighting, Biotic and Krogan wrath both unleashed as he tore through the poor souls stuck fighting him.

At the end, just before the door, there was a corner where the support structure ended that let out to the rest of the area. Javik hesitated for a minute, one of his secondary eyes alighting on him where he stood with his Avenger watching the other door. A brief second passed before he stepped around the corner for a moment and then back. Looking to the black-armored Human, the alien nodded curtly and John joined him, the two hanging back in the access area where no one could see him.

At a gesture, John stood and moved forward, towards the door into the server and power management suite. As he stepped towards the door, he glance to his right, catching a glimpse of Wrex hurling a white-armored soldier into another and smashing both into the concrete hard enough to shatter the plated armor and send halos of blood around their heads. Then he was in the server, silent as a wraith and staring at the lightly armored backs of two engineers, kneeling where they were working on the power juncture.

Neither noticed him and so, holding a hand up to ask Javik to wait, he waited for the cannon to fire again and opened fire. Six round bursts punched into unprepared, and thus _unshielded_ , heads cleanly before the firing of the great cannon stopped. Waving Javik in, he pointed his rifle towards the back of the room and pressed his back against the wall, keeping both entries in his sights at the same time while Javik worked on planting the bypass modules. Little black rectangles that would, autonomously, seize control of the cannon and give it to them.

"Finished." Javik grunted, rising with his particle rifle in his hands and turning, "We should support the Krogan. I shall stay here and fire into their flanks, where possible. You head that way," he gestured with his rifle at the back of the room, where Rookie could make out a ladder down, "and flank around them."

"Okay." He pushed off, striding towards the ladder and dropping down, lading in a crouch and hesitating to see if he heard anything. Moving along the wall once he felt he was safe, he peeked around the near corner, up towards where he could see Cerberus backs spread out along chest high barriers of ancient, rusted rebar.

A second later, a lance of bright green energy lashed out and against the unshielded head of a Trooper, melting the metal and meat away into slag inside three seconds. Body spasming as it fell and soldiers turning to react, he took his chance and moved towards the massive hunk of fallen ceiling dominating the center of the area at the back of the ramp. Using it for the full cover he was, he slid around towards the back entrance of the command room and froze.

A brief shimmer in the corner of his eye, impossible but clear as day. An Elite? Here? Panic shot through him and he spun, opening fire on the figure in a long and drawn out burst. Lithe and small, the figure ducked and weaved around his shots, and the ODST recognized her for a woman after a second to force himself to think. A round sparked across her chest as she closed on him, the cloak fading to reveal the tight leather and ceramic plating she wore, face covered in a mask as her off hand lashed out.

Blue energy sparking along it was all he needed, eyes widening as her arm swung like a boxer, blue energy spiking out and into him hard enough to _slam_ him into the concrete behind him. His arms splayed from the force and his legs buckled for the briefest second before he caught himself and pushed off, but the woman seized that chance and leapt, stabbing towards him with her sword. The blade met the steel of his gun, brought between them like a shield, and punched through in a shower of sparks from the inner workings shearing apart like particularly expensive and lethal butter.

Blade stopped, her left leg snapped up and into his side harder than any Human could hit, shattering a rib through his armor and shields both. He ignored the stinging pain and wrenched the rifle to the side, only succeeding to tear the sword _through_ it even more than her lunge had.

Like an energy sword, kinetic motion didn't matter, so instead he _dropped_ the ruined rifle and ducked under the blue fireball that she hurled towards him. Her other leg snapped up in a horse kick, slamming into his chest plate and throwing him back hard enough his head snapped back, but his arms wrapped around the limb and he pushed off to the side, falling and using his weight to _drag_ her down. They hit the floor and he released her, rolling away as the blade swung down, shattering the ruined Avenger hanging on it both from force of impact and the blade cleaving through it.

Kneeling, their faces met for the briefest of moments, as well as they could through mask and visor, and he yanked his knife free. The woman simply chuckled, an electric, warped quality to it, and lunged again, Biotic energy sparking along her legs as she did. Her sword didn't stab in, anticipating his dodge, and so he _didn't_ dodge. Instead he took the full brunt of her Biotic charge to his chest, the surprised woman not knowing how to deal with it before he brought his knife down into her back, right between her shoulder blades. He felt the muscle around the knife, and the spine under _that_ , separate as she stiffened.

He sank under her weight, on both knees and in the open as she went limp, sword clattering on the ground. He waited a second, in case it was a ruse, before yanking the knife free and pushing the paralyzed and dying woman off him. She thudded to the ground and he rose, hand drawing his Predator while he eyed the ruined rifle for a moment before stepping back into cover where he'd been to take stock and catch his breath.

"Please…" He heard it, looking at the downed woman, her head lolling. "Hurts… Teacher…"

It hurt, and she was a teacher, and she was asking him for help. Were they… Conscious, even after what Cerberus had done to them? Blinking slowly, he sighed, and raised his Predator, a single round punching through her skull without a thought of hesitation. Crippled for life, Cerberus wouldn't do a thing, and even if they brought her in her face would just explode.

Fucking Cerberus…

Silence descended on the battlefield for a moment, and then he heard the familiar voice bellowing, "Rook! Where you at!"

He spared the now very dead woman a glance and stepped out of cover, moving up the ramp towards them and pushing the memory away. She'd been dead long before she came up against him, she'd just been forced to keep walking and killing after. A teacher forced to- Not his problem.

He just had to do his job.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

_**Official Supporters:**_

 _ **Grand Priestess, Luna Haile -**_

 _ **High Priest, Alvelvnor**_

 _ **Priest, The Impossible Muffin**_

 _ **Priest, Xager the Chaos King**_

 _ **Acolyte, DigiDemonLord**_

 _ **Acolyte, Stonecold**_

 _ **Initiate, Greg Gibson**_

 _ **Initiate, Gentleman Mad**_

 _ **Initiate, Lebenden_Toten**_

 _ **If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our discord. Server for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, and remember to post a Review/Comment to let me know what you liked and didn't.**_

 _ **So, Fanfiction will not let me link to discord. So, I apologize to every single FF reader for this, but please PM me for a join link. And please consider doing so, I enjoy chatting with you lot. On AO3, the link is viable :**_ _ **/2UZncAm**_

 _ **If I could trick FF into thinking this is not a link here it is (delete the spaces and turn):**_

 _ **D iscord . gg (slash) kfhkfUb**_

 _ **Betas for this story so far :**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Javik was unharmed when they regrouped in the control room, aside from a single small black pattern on his left leg. Black lines trailing along the joints of armor and undersuit, where a round had glanced past and left behind a trail from its intense heat and friction, but otherwise done nothing. John himself was mostly untouched as well, aside from scuffs along one shoulder and a spot of blood on his chest that didn't belong to him, thanks to how he'd approached the battle. Hiding in cover and picking off enemies unaware of you didn't tend to leave you in harm's way as much, and a smart soldier used that whenever possible. Then there was Wrex...

Wrex was the consummate Krogan warrior coming off of a battle. His armor, once a dark red a few shades cooler than his crest and eyes, had now been tinted dark and even black in places. His entire left arm was covered in scorch marks and electrical burns, like he'd jammed his arm into a tesla coil. He even had a small smattering of small bullet marks. Little divots in the armor, muscle and hide that he didn't seem to care about. A long furrow from left shoulder to his right hip had been carved across his chest armor, along with a smattering of pockmarked divots like on his arm, and another trench had been carved into his head behind his crest that even now both bled and stitched itself together while he watched on in silence. The rest of his body was covered in similar patterns of scorch, small divots and wounds that trickled blood even as they mended. None of which the Battlemaster seemed to care about, instead simply leaning against the front entryway and watching the cannon fire into the sky at its new Cerberus targets.

The Brutes had been bad, but he couldn't imagine facing a line of charging Krogan warlords and their bodyguards and surviving with a fighting force worth anything. Not that facing charging _Brutes_ was any better...

"Credit for your thoughts, John?" The Krogan warlord didn't sound strained, or even really _tired_ at all. Instead he sounded oddly satisfied, like a soldier with a full meal and a ship's solid walls to shelter in and relax. Smiling toothily in that predatory, terrifying way that Krogan did, the warlord added, "Been staring for a minute. Think I'm pretty when I get all polished up in a fight, nice and properly Krogan?"

"You're wounded." He observed dryly, turning to watch the Prothean working on one of the computers.

"I tore the information on this weapon's usage and transmission capabilities from one of these Cerberus engineers' minds." He explained to the unanswered questions, gesturing to the fallen and helmetless Human at his feet. Blue face with dark veins spider-webbing across it and blood spilling from his nose and ears, but still undeniably _once_ human at least. "Not a process a mind can survive, especially when I do not deign to be gentle."

He could tell, looking at the curled up body and its pained face, but pushed the thoughts aside at memories of the teacher from before trying to surface. Not his problem to think about, he just had a job to do.

"Nothing but scratches and scrapes. A Krogan can deal with a hell of a lot more, and the way we like fightin' means we usually do." The Warlord looked him over from where he leaned against the ancient concrete and huffed, grinning slightly. "Where'd your rifle go, Rookie?"

"Shattered in half off of a… Sword wielded by a woman with a cloaking ability." Which felt stupid to _say_ , even with the knowledge that he'd faced similar from Elites in the past. His rational mind argued they were the same and so he dismissed the irrationality entirely. "What's the situation?"

"Waiting on Clan Kralt's Warlord, he's riding in with Cortez to head to the meeting at the Hollows. A very old, very _sacred_ place for all Krogan." The Warlord paused for a second while the cannon fired, rounds thundering into the sky and - hopefully - into a Cerberus target in low orbit, all while causing the entire structure to tremble. "He volunteered to help us here in exchange for a lift there, once I told him about the cure. Lotta Warlords signed on when they found that out…"

"I wonder why." Javik added dryly, ignoring the sour look Wrex shot him as he leaned back. "I have transferred the control for this cannon to the ships in orbit. This location will require protection, however, as I used the _Cerberus_ soldier's knowledge and a simple bypass system I was given to gain control."

"Not very secure." John added as an acknowledgement, looking to the Warlord and tilting his head slightly curiously. "Wrex?"

"Clan Kralt is sending a few Krogan to hold the fort down along with their Warlord, another dozen or so will arrive in a couple hours. Then the _clan_ will." He shrugged shoulders that were made of small mountains and chuckled low in the back of his throat, the sound like drums mixed with gravel more than any kind of laughter a Human would know. "The mountain clans, they never do anything halfway… I explained the importance of this place, and they decided the whole damn clan would hold it down or die trying."

"An admirable approach, given the nature of the Reapers." Javik complimented, particle rifle held comfortable across his chest. A rigid eyebrow, or what passed for on on a Prothean at least, rose imperiously and he added, "Given the apparent Krogan proclivity to attempt suicide by firefight seemingly until it works, I am shocked by the wisdom shown there."

"Heh, as if these popguns were any risk to me. Just got a few scratches is all, most of 'em are healed up." The massive Warlord snorted, raising his ridged, spiny eyebrows at the ancient alien, and added in a taunting voice, "Were you _worried_ about me?"

"Your death, amusing as it might be, would be inconvenient to fighting the Reapers." Javik answered simply, looking past the Krogan and his significantly smaller comrade and jerking his chin towards the skyline. "I see the shuttle on its way now. We should prepare to depart for our next objective."

"Yeah, guess you're right." The meaty hand of the Krogan slapped against Rookie's shoulder as he turned, heading down the ramp towards the more open area between the two rooms that ran the gun. "Let's get you a couple trophies from the fight, eh? You deserve some, and need a new gun either damn way."

"Very well." He couldn't really just use his Predator the entire time, decent enough sidearm it might be. It wouldn't be much use in an outright firefight, not against anything more than one or two standard Troopers. He couldn't afford the risk to the mission of taking injuries due to ineffective equipment.

While the Krogan dispersed, some more technologically inclined or trained, headed to the power boards while their leader and his two companions assumed command of the cannon's firing array. Javik transferred the software to one of their Omni-Tools, and John himself sat on a low and crumbled barrier, waiting while Wrex sorted through the pile of rifles laid just to the left of the ramp that lead into the command room. He was shoulder to shoulder with two other Krogan, taking the rifles and handing them away as Wrex sorted through the pile.

Behind them, two more Krogan worked on disassembling the weapons. Sorting out ammunition blocks and internals of the weapons, probably to repurpose them later. The 'net said the Krogan were clumsy, lumbering meatheads good for nothing but crushing and fighting. Yet while he watched, sharp eyes devouring every movement the Krogan made curiously, he saw fingers as skilled as any other. And eyes as sharp as any marksman as well, piecing out the functioning pieces and gently coaxing them from the weapons.

"Scavengin' is a way of life on Tuchanka." Wrex grunted, looking over an armored shoulder while he knelt and then resuming his work. "We don't make much, lack the factories and infrastructure for it. Instead, we cobble together what we can. On and off Tuchanka, clans scavenge, and the mountain clans most of all."

"Understandable." A civilization on a world like this would have to be good at scavenging and scraping by, after all. This was apparently one of their most advanced remnants, and even _it_ looked old and weathered to the point of near ruin. Old electronics long since replaced and sections collapsed. "What are you looking for?"

"Cerberus rifles have a little… Thing in 'em that tends to fry 'em when their users die. Works about a third of the time, so if you look you can usually find one that didn't go off." The Krogan barked a harsh sound that John only realized a second later when the Krogan turned, holding out the collapsed dow form of a white rifle, was a laugh. "Cerberus rifle, in good shape too. I can run a program on my 'Tool while we travel to the Hollows and make sure it doesn't fry later."

"It'll do. Thank you." He nodded, the Warlord in front of him standing and handing the rectangle to him. Grimacing, he pulled out his knife and set to work scratching off the insignia. Aside from the Cerberus sigil on the sides, which he was easily scraping off, the rifle was only a little heavier than his old Avenger. "Is that all?"

"Nope." the Warlord gestured with his head to another Krogan, scavenging the bodies for whatever they'd missed while they waited on the shuttle, who held out a long shape wrapped in cloth. The Krogan scavenger shoved it into Rookie's hand and the ODST let the weight hang for a minute before turning to look at the red Krogan questioningly. Angling his head toward the piled Cerberus bodies, with a lithe form of a woman laid on top, he explained, "Those bitches are called Phantoms, and _you_ took one all on your own. A stab wound too, from what I saw on the body. Means you get her sword as a trophy, for a fight well fought."

"I don't need-"

"It's a trophy, not a weapon for you to _use_. You can just leave it on the shuttle when we get back off, it'll be fine there. S'an old, Krogan custom. And doing it is meant to honor you." He cut the Human specialist off, turning and walking towards the parked shuttle. " Just humor me, alright? And 'sides, we got places to be. And Reapers to kill, hehe."

Holding the wrapped sword in one hand as they walked, he considered arguing for a moment before giving in. It wasn't worth the hassle, and Wrex could be as stubborn as a Marine holding a trench. There was no point trying when it would be so much easier to just leave it in his room and be done with entirely. Plus, they _did_ have a second operation to get to. And not much time to waste bickering over the issue of taking battle trophies or not.

 _And_ if he were honest, he wouldn't want to risk offending Wrex.

"S'a real damn Prothean. Heh, if you got that kinda shit, guess it makes sense that you have a Salarian curin' the Genophage." Another Krogan said, crest colored a light and pleasant blue color to match the Krogan's eyes. "Maybe trustin' you was the right idea, High Warlord."

"As if you had a choice, heh heh." The High Warlord chuckled darkly, turning to look down on John and waving a hand at the other Krogan. "Head of Clan Kralt, Warlord Gavulk, Rook. He'll be ridin' with us to the Hollows, like I told you a bit ago."

"Sir." He nodded his head curtly to the new Krogan, the warlord snorting in amusement. "Is that all, High Warlord?"

"Wait here with him while I check with Cortez about the shuttle, in case shit goes down or whatever. After that… Well, I won't be your commander once we hit the Hollows. Shepard gets you back to herself." Wrex grunted, almost sounding disappointed as he stepped around him and moved off towards the blue shuttle, parked on the brown stone in front of the command room for the cannon.

"Like I need a Human to protect me.,," The other Warlord snorted, shaking his great, blue head and kneeling to join the others scavenging the weapons. "I don't need you bodyguarding me, Human. So just sit there and look pretty."

"Understood." He could tell the Krogan was prodding him, and knew better than to fall into the trap. Instead, he watched the Warlord, looking over his person curiously. He was the only other Warlord he'd seen so far.

Five deeper gashes like a massive claw swipe scarred the forehead plate, darker blue and tinged with orange in. His armor, unlike Wrex's single-color and style set, was a mix and match of pieces. A heavy pauldron colored red on one shoulder, and a slimmer green one on the other, seemingly patched together from a dozen sets of armor and pitted with scars from claws, bullets and burns alike. A massive axe rested across his back, old and tinged along its edges the kind of way that blood left when it wasn't cleaned properly, made of heavy metal and what _looked_ like armor plating of all things. A bundle of hefty looking spikes set into a massive quiver hung off his right hip, a massive shotgun across the back of them above his stubby tail.

A crossbow maybe? He couldn't tell, and didn't have time to think over it before Wrex bellowed his name and told him they were leaving.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Thirty minutes later, the UNSC soldier holding his new rifle once Wrex had finished with it, Cortez's voice sparked over the intercom, "Shepard sent a call through, stack up and prepare for a combat drop. Reaper forces are assaulting the Hollows and they overwhelmed external security. She's with the Chieftains and their personal guards, trying to hold the central meeting ground."

"Krogan there won't be armed, and Shepard's team were only allowed to have sidearms for her protection." Wrex pointed out, scowling and drawing his heavy looking shotgun from his waist. "It'll be fists, Biotics, and whatever anyone who got inside from the perimeter defense units had. Nothin' else."

"A good old fashioned brawl. Great way to start a Krogan meeting, ha!" Gavulk barked a laugh, loud enough his helmet's audio receptors muted for a moment before opening again halfway through his sentence. "-Chieftain, we goin' up the middle or sweepin' around the sides?"

"We'll have to see…" Wrex growled, turning to look at the seated Human in the corner of the shuttle and then glancing to Javik in the same moment. "You two up the middle, there's a central platform in the Hollows used for presentation. Use it for a firing position and focus on relieving the Chieftains if you can spot 'em. Gavulk and I'll do the same and rally them to the center with you."

"Understood." He checked his weapon once more, making sure it was ready to fire. Anxious, he asked, "This weapon is ready to fire, correct?"

"Safeties on the back by the grip, I replaced the ammo block and everything else read as functional." John checked, flicking it off when he found it, and then nodded gratefully at the Krogan. "S'automatic as well, a bit more kick to it than yours did judgin' by the Mattock frame it uses. You know how to hook it into your HUD system on the fly?"

"Already done." He nodded, the Warlord returning the gesture curtly and turned around to stand at the door beside the other Warlord. Behind them, Javik and the ODST formed up, shoulders almost touching and rifles held halfway up at the ready. Rounds sparked and thumped along the shuttle's hull as it dove gently and angled up to bank into its landing. Green lights swapped to red a moment before the door opened, and the Krogan bellowed roars of challenge.

Driving forward, Gavulk turned as two Human Husks leapt for him, swinging his massive axe through the air and as much _crushing_ them aside as cleaving them. Wrex spun in the same moment, backhanding a Husk away and blasting through five more with twin blasts of his heavy shotgun. Two Husks slipped by Gavulk on the left and leapt onto Wrex's back, clawing at his armored back as much in hopes of wounding him as to make grips to stay on it. Both fell to short bursts of particle from Javik's rifle, stepping past Wrex and putting his back to the entrance while Rookie moved past without bothering to fight the throngs of Husks.

Out here was nothing but low barriers alongside an ancient, cracked road, both with dead Krogan intermixed among fallen Husks of the lesser kinds. Cannibals and the lowly Human version, blue and orange blood splashed on the stone in places. _Piles_ of both kinds of Husks were heaped around the entrance, along with a quartet of dead, black-armored Krogan who had died rather than give up the one entrance directly into the Hollows.

A Cannibal stepped into sight, blocking off the door out into the Hollows' meeting area, and he grit his teeth as rounds sparked off his shields. Slamming into the Husk he shoved it into the corner of the door, slamming an armored boot into its knee hard enough to break the bone and then pressing the barrel of his rifle into its chest and belting rounds into it until it finally went still. Looking back the way he'd come, he caught a glimpse of Javik pelting past him and out onto the platform that served as the meeting grounds with the two other Krogan close on his heels.

Through the door and out onto the stairway he went, looking down on the platform where Krogan clustered back to back, fending off the Husks incoming by crushing them under feet and fists, tearing them to pieces, or using the Husks themselves to bludgeon _other_ Husks into the ground. He spotted Shepard in the mix of four Krogan arrayed around her squad, who themselves circled Mordin Solus protectively, hacking with her glowing orange Omni-Blade and snapping off shots wherever she could manage it with her Predator. Helmet gone for whatever reason, a claw had scored across the side of her head and let blood flow down her face past frenzied green eyes.

"Rally to the central platform!" Wrex bellowed commandingly, raising a fist into the air while Gavulk charged into the nearest melee. "The best shots get on it, shoot down on the Husks! Wounded too, if you can't fight. Protect your Warlords and the Salarian doctor at any costs! For the Cure!"

However much of that had made it through the cacophony of shrieks, gunfire, wails and roars of Krogan defiance, the last part most certainly had and cries of 'For the Cure!' sounded all across the massive space. For a brief moment it was enough that every other sound faded away into the background, lost in the unanimous roar, before the sounds of battle returned in force.

He saw Shepard turn, bark something at her team and the Krogan there, and then her group began to move in its circle. Husks leapt and were crushed, thrown or shot down and away, but he turned back to his own job before he saw whatever came next. He had to get to the platform and hold, and ran for it to that end, evading whenever Husks turned to him as he went through the sheer weight of Korgan numbers pressing into the Reaper infantry and his own instincts in navigating a field of desperate fighting.

He spent a chaotic fifteen minutes that followed on that platform, using a low section of rubble as cover and firing at the swarming Husks thronging against the shoulder to shoulder Krogan on the ground, fighting with whatever they could get their hands on for weapons. Chucks of rebar, pipes, or just their fists with rifles firing down over them made short work of any Husk that came close.

"Reinforcements are outside! Comin' in!" He heard a Krogan bellow from below, helmet missing a chunk and sparking horribly.

Turning fearful eyes on the door for a moment, he prepared to belt rounds into the door until he saw a dozen a mix of Krogan in red armor adorned with painted white skulls and slightly smaller Krogan in what looked like robes, both armed with heavy machine guns come charging through the doors. They formed a firing line at the door, one rank kneeling and the other standing, and simply unleashed automatic hell down into the swamp of Husk bodies. The few cannibals in their number turned to fire back at them, but long ropes of tracer rounds cut through them like scythes through wheat ripe for harvest.

Five more minutes later, the fighting ended in a Krogan roar of triumph. A scarred, old looking Krogan in green armor surprised him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and whooping in joy.

"Report, Rookie." He turned when he heard Shepard's voice, Mordin trailing behind her unsurely until she sat down and he could set to tending to her wounded head. "How'd your operation go?"

"Installation secured, zero casualties sustained. Clan Kralt have assumed defensive duties per plan, Ma'am." He held up his looted Cerberus rifle and explained, "My weapon was destroyed beyond use or recovery while engaging a Phantom. I looted this as replacement, Ma'am."

"I'll log the lost weapon and we can deal with your new one later, if you decide to keep it." Which he might, its kick was heftier than his old Avenger to be sure but the rounds _tore_ through anything on the other end of his sight. "Any wounds?"

"Negative."

"Good." She relaxed then, watching the Krogan warriors helping their wounded limp to a gathering area out of the corner of her eye while Mordin wrapped a bandage around her head.

The cut wasn't enough to waste Medi-Gel on, apparently. Some of the remaining Krogan carried bodies and piled them on one side of the platform while the bloodied Warlords, around two dozen, talked on the far end. Outside, he knew, Krogan armor and infantry were surrounding the building in numbers the Reapers couldn't hope to overwhelm with infantry swarms under a size they wouldn't know was coming _far_ before it got anywhere near them.

"I'm assigning you to Wrex one more time." She finally said after a minute of silence, or as near to silence as they could hope for in the busy area, passed. "You'll protect him and Mordin, and escort them to the Shroud when we embark. I'll be heading a reactive strike team, to head off any major threats to the operational objective."

"Understood." Defense was a simple enough affair, if a hard one, usually.

"Reinforce the outer perimeter while we finish up here. It shouldn't take long, so be ready and stay close to the Tomkahs." She ordered when Mordin finished and moved towards the wounded, who shot him suspicious looks but didn't fight him when he started treating their wounds. "We'll talk later, John. Stay safe out there, consider that an order."

"Yes, ma'am."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **SO58 :**_

 **I always treat Shepard as both a military officer and the mom of a group. On a battlefield, its short, clipped conversations and orders. On the ship, she's friendly and cuddly like a normal-ish person.**


	14. Chapter 14

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"This way, Human." A Krogan guard grunted, waving him down a hall and wearing relatively lighter looking black armor and carrying an old and battered shotgun of some kind. A venerated and trusted warrior among all the clans, armed lightly and only because of the threat of Reapers, to guard the area around and under the Hollows. "The Battlemasters are waiting for you, for whatever damn reason. So hurry the hell up, we all have work to do and waitin' on you makes my hide itch."

"Acknowledged." He'd been allowed to keep his new rifle, a Harrier he now knew for fact from several Krogan who'd called it as such. The rounds were large, the rifle was automatic and accurate at medium ranges, so the ODST simply assumed the name was a nickname spun off the best role for the weapon.

Why _he'd_ been allowed to keep it was the question, but not one he'd risk asking about to satisfy.

"Don't get lost down here, I'd hate to have to track you down." The guard huffed, waving his hand in the same again to direct him. "Urdnot Wrex needs you for somethin', so... Come and see me if you can't navigate down here. Takes some gettin' used to."

"Thank you." He grunted after a second, turning to head the way he'd been directed when the Krogan didn't make a move to say anything else. As he walked, he took a moment to look around himself and take in the sights, mapping out turns as best he could in his head. "Like a maze…"

The Hollows were a sacred place, but they were unlike any he'd ever visited and hard to navigate. The top was an enclosed surface, with thick and heavy walls on every side and a reinforced roof structure to protect from attack with only gaps a foot wide - and thus too thin for a Krogan to fit through - for ventilation, all of them at the connection between roof and wall. It was undecorated as well, with little of any real apparent significance beyond massive statues at the corners and some ancient, weathered epitaphs. A bunker, almost, able to withstand bombardment and assault as well as anything could hope to without being completely sealed up and _entrenched_ into the ground.

Under the Hollows' meeting grounds was a honeycomb of maze-like tunnels and rooms, bare of anything aside from divots into the walls large enough for a Krogan to take cover in and more epitaphs. But the walls always curved, so the the divots would offer as little protection against _defending_ fire as possible. And everything decorative or ceremonial was either _part_ of the wall or anchored to it, so that nothing could be ripped away easily and made into a weapon.

A Krogan ancestral site through and through, built with their nature in mind as much if not _more_ than the culture plastered along the walls.

The room was large by his standards, but felt as small as a bunk room aboard a UNSC cruiser had with the dozen massive, alien forms in it. Their massive figures were covered in armor, some with bandages wrapped around wounds from the fight previous, and they stood in a circle around a large console set into the ground, massive wires running to both of the far corners. On it he could see the glow of a holo-map, and what he guessed had to be the terrain of Tuchanka around the Hollows with all the ruins and broken structures.

"Rook!" Wrex boomed when red eyes caught sight of him from the other side of the mass of armored bodies, raising a meaty hand to wave him over. "Come on in, we've been waitin' on you. Did you have trouble with the passages?"

"Yes, but I found my way here." He answered shortly, reflexively adjusting his grip on his rifle as eleven eyes ten times older than he could _get_ landed on him before he moved towards his Battlemaster friend.

The Krogan noticed but, either trusting Wrex's pick of companions or knowing that a single Human with a rifle couldn't deal with a dozen Krogan _warlords_ , they didn't react beyond derisive snorts. None moved for him as he walked around the table, and the one on Wrex's left didn't move until the High Warlord shoved him out of the way and waved a hand at the high table for the ODST to stand at.

"Now, I know what all you scaly bastards are thinkin'." Wrex grunted, face set into a glare as his eyes roved each Warlord in turn. "Why did I stall this meeting for a Human, of all things, when we're here to cure the Genophage? Why is a Human at my side, in one of the most trusted positions, instead of a Warlord like you? Or even just a Krogan warrior, someone covered in scars from a century of fights?"

"We're thinkin' it, yeah… And a few other things too, now you mention it." A Krogan across from Wrex sneered, green eyes looking the ODST over like he was an insect the alien had spotted. The ODST turned his head calmly to stare the man down, depolarizing his visor so the Krogan could meet his icy eyes, and the Warlord snorted. "Shepard would be one thing, but this… Scrawny Human, we don't know him."

"We already know the Salarians want this cure stopped." Another pointed out, voice impossibly deeper than Wrex's own rumbling out. "What if the Alliance has decided to side with them?"

"Shepard would tell me if they pulled that shit. And desert too. And Hackett knows that damn well enough, he needs her." Wrex waved a hand to dismiss the idea, like he was wafting it away the way he might a bad smell. "Shepard's got a full plate already, so she gave me him. Put him under my command and 'sides, he's harder than all of you combined. So if she hadn't offered, I'd have _asked_ for him."

"Is that an insult?" The first Krogan snapped, growling and slamming a hand down hard enough that the holo-map fizzled for a moment before clearing up again. "We did not come here for _insults_ , Urdnot. We came for a cure for the Genophage."

"Wasn't an insult. Just a point of fact." The ODST sighed, but let Wrex explain before the Krogan could bellow responses. Clapping the smaller Human on a shoulder, the High Warlord went on, "This bastard right here ain't your average Human soldier, needin' a prissy _shuttle_ for every fight. He's somethin' special, real secret Alliance shit, more 'n anything else they got. I only get to tell you because I pushed for it when they pulled away for their little Prothean gig. An ODST."

"Go on then, Rook." The Krogan jostled him in a friendly way, grinning beside him. "Tell 'em what you're allowed to. We'll keep our damn traps shut while you do, so don't worry 'bout that none."

"...Understood." The clever old Krogan was good with his words, and knew how to steer attention. 'Tell them what you can' meant that he could relay just the public information about the ODSTs, and simply assert Alliance classification on everything under _UNSC_ classification.

Wrex was indeed a clever, _clever_ Krogan.

Twelve massive, curious sets of eyes landed on him and he spoke, "ODST stands for Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. A highly elite special forces unit which is trained to deploy via SOEIV, or Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle. One-soldier pods slightly larger than yourselves, deployed from orbiting ships for tactical insertion on the ground."

"Lifepods, but smaller and you launch 'em at the ground to drop off soldiers." Wrex translated easily, the ODST nodding gratefully to him. "I've seen his pod with my own two eyes, too. Name me one Krogan in this room that drops from friggin' orbit in a damn tin can to _shoot shit_ , and _he_ can stand next to me."

Silence reigned, and Wrex grunted knowingly, "Fine then, shut up the lot of you and pay the ODST some damn respect." Around the table, Krogan glanced to each other and then to him, offering small nods, occasionally pounding a fist on the table or their chests instead, and Wrex bumped his arm against the smaller Human's. "Nod back, s'how it works. Sign of mutual respect and acknowledgement."

He did, and the tension in the room vanished, the first krogan speaking again, "So, High Warlord. What's the plan?"

The ODST relaxed as Wrex leaned forward, explaining the Turian air support and the multi-angled assault on the Shroud, which had apparently been occupied by a Reaper for some reason. Fifteen columns of Krogan armor would move along as many roads from every direction and, with Turian air support, bombard the Reaper Destroyer while the Krogan ground forces held a rear guard line behind the armor. All along the path, Krogan infantry squads would be dropped off to entrench and lure in enemy forces, both to thin their numbers in general and to take pressure off the rolling armored units. Trailing slightly behind the main Krogan assault force would be the troop-carriers, which would surround and protect a smaller, heavily armored vehicle carrying Shepard, Mordin and Eve, along with two Warlords and Shepard's squad in case _anything_ happened.

"What do you think, Rook?" Wrex asked suddenly once the plan had been explained, the ODST glancing between the Krogan and the map twice before Wrex rolled his red eyes, snorted amusedly, and said, "You've fought fights like this before. So what do you think of the plan?"

"I… It's workable, Sir." He finally said, leaning forward to tap two large mounds to the North and East of the Reaper. "I also think we could divert forces here and here. Entrench two small artillery divisions, which can add support to any fights along the way."

"That would mean diverting Krogan out of the fight itself." A back Warlord said, voice higher than the others and almost lilting in a way. "But my clan has a few Tomkahs fitted for shelling we could bring in on this."

"Did you bring them?" The other Krogan simply nodded and Wrex clapped the ODST on the shoulder again, the body part starting to bruise from all the gestures of camaraderie. Not that John could complain, though, he'd only _just_ earned the respect of these Warlords. "Good call, Rook. Anything else?"

"This structure around the Shroud… What is it?"

"Old ruins of a city along the roads and further out. Close in, though… That's the Temple of Kalros, Mother of Tuchanka and the largest Thresher Maw on the planet. Or in the _species_." He tapped a finger on the map, right under the Shroud, and went on. "Couple of Hammers there, hit 'em and you can summon her. Was a defense, few centuries back. The whole temple is fortified like that, to protect the Shroud way the hell back when our species was uplifted."

"Will the Thresher Maw be a problem?" He asked, worried about having to face down something like _that_ alongside fighting Reapers.

"Nah, nah, she stays underground unless she's summoned, usually. Hunts other 'Maws." The Warlord shrugged and Rookie nodded, pushing away the concern for now since he was at least _fairly_ certain it wasn't something to really worry over. A variable, but not one he should have to worry about facing. "What else ya got?"

"Have the Normandy devote its shuttles to bombing and fire support roles along the Western and Southern routes, to make up for the lack of artillery." He leaned back and gave Wrex a small but clear shrug. "Other than that, the plan is solid as it is. Any other changes would require delaying days or hours to move in men and supplies."

"Not an option. Someone might get cold feet, or someone might get support and bog us down more… No, no more waiting." Wrex dismissed, leaning on the table once again and staring at the Shroud on the holo-map silently for a few long seconds. "Today, the Genophage _dies_." Looking up, he glanced to each Krogan in turn and growled, "Today, the Krogan _kill_ a Reaper, and we kill the Genophage. And look at that, nice and convenient for us, they're in the same damn spot."

"Who are we to look a working Tomkah down the barrel, eh?" He roared and, deafeningly, the other Krogan joined him in uproarious cheer and fervor. As they filed out, Wrex spoke to the ODST, "Sorry to put you on the spot back there, but… The Warlords had to respect ya or they'd never work with ya."

"Understood, Sir." He nodded, polarizing is visor as he did and rolling his shoulders. "We have work to do, Sir."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"First drop off!" Wrex bellowed as always, into ears and earpieces both, as the Tomkah that he, John and two Krogan Warlord bodyguards were riding in _tilted_ , the massive vehicle skidding to a stop on the broken Tuchankan roads. "Krilat, Wreav, take the back flank. Rook and me get the front. Gunner, swivel wherever you seem black 'n blue. For the Cure!"

"For Tuchanka!" All but the ODST crowed, though the small Human was the first to leap out the door as the ramp dropped. His feet hit the dirt as rounds sparked off his shields and the armor behind him, the Trooper ducking to the side and strafing towards the front with his rifle raised, spitting fire wherever enemy rounds seemed to come from until he saw his shields drop low and slammed into a concrete barrier, ancient and worn but more than usable for him to take cover behind.

Husks charged, Human forms small and lithe ducking between the innumerable slabs of ruddy brown concrete and mounded sand for cover as they tried to close the distance. The Tomkah's gun swiveled on a large cluster and fired, sending the pitiful things flying into the air in pieces and searching for another target. Short, three round bursts of his rifle barked out at the Husks as they charged, each taking the creature he sighted in the chest just below the throat and throwing its body back to lay still in the sand.

Wrex followed behind him, standing in the open heedless of the incoming fire and hurling two balls of Biotic energy. One that lifted a Husk into the air, the creature scrabbling for leverage on the ground and its fellows as it floated, and then another that slammed into the floating Reaper with a dull _whump_ , the Biotics detonating in a blue explosion of fire and kinetic fury that left havoc in the Reaper's lines. Hundreds more Husks followed though, the two Krogan joining their rifle fire to his and Wrex's own, one hand wielding an Avenger while the other hurled balls of blue power into the fight.

"Rook!" He turned to his side at the warning and the movement he spotted, massive creature hurling a stone into the air. "Brute! Get back!"

It was too close, he knew, the Brute roaring as it raised its claw high and his mind raced. Tossing aside the Harrier, he leapt _towards_ the Brute instead of away, landing between its massive bludgeoning claw and its body. Rising, he pulled his knife in one hand and a grenade from his belt in the other, stepped around the Brute and punching the knife into its softer side and slamming the Omni-Gel covered grenade onto the knife.

Then the Reaper turned, as though aware of his intent, and _batted_ him the way the Reaper had come from. He sailed through the air, slamming into a concrete slab hard enough he heard stone and bone crack under the force and grunted. Landing and ignoring the burning in his side, he brought up arms to shield himself as the grenade went off, sending the massive claw flying off the creature and chunks of meat and metal into the air. Without a sound, the Brute's corpse collapsed to the side, but he couldn't dwell on the victory for long before the fist of the Husks leapt over the barricades at the Krogans, the Warlords wrestling with them and ripping, tearing or simply crushing them to kill them.

But more came, heedless of their fellow's bodies and their ally's bullets tearing into their backs, and he forced himself up. Drawing his sidearm and taking a firing stance, he put three rounds into each of the three Husks crawling over Wrex's back, and then another three into the one that leapt for him. With a roar, Wrex let off a Biotic detonation around himself and turned, kicking the Harrier into the air and touching a hand to it.

Almost airily, the rifled drifted towards him and, snapping off shots into the Husks as he did, he moved towards it and plucked it from the air. Snapping a fresh clip into his rifle and discarding the old one, he stepped behind Wrex while the Krogan shot, bashed and biotically eviscerated the incoming Husks. Using the Warlord for cover, he put short, accurate bursts into the Husks swarming the other two Warlords, freeing them the same way he had Wrex and then using the mountainous Krogan like a pillar of cover, rifle bucking against his left shoulder as he leaned out to fire on the Husks.

Finally, the slower transport Tomkahs rolled up, disgorging three dozen Krogan and turning heavy cannons on the Reaper forces along with the Krogan's own mix of fists, Biotics and rifle fire. The massive cannons on the Tomkahs fired beyond the Husks, aiming to where the fire was coming from and, finally, the first fight ended.

"Here, Human." He looked up at a red-armored Krogan, white skulls poorly painted on his shoulders and chest, and then the outstretched hand. A long knife rested there, half the length of his forearm with a serrated and a dark orange edge tinged with flecks of blue in a sheath open on the blade edge for a smooth draw and lined in blocky magnets to keep it secure He glanced to the warrior curiously and the Krogan spoke, "Warlord Krilat saw you lose yours, so here's mine. S'old, but damn good."

"Acknowledged... " He took the weapon, reaching up to flick off his old, useless sheath and fix the new one there. Experimentally, he drew the knife, ignoring the pain in his side and testing the weight with a swing. "Usable."

"Alpha Squad, you know the drill." Wrex's voice boomed before the red Krogan could answer, looking to him worriedly when he registered the large Krogan beside him for a moment and then nodding when the Krogan pounded a hand against its chest in salute. "Rook, saw that hit. Good?"

"Cracked rib, nothing serious beyond that." He reloaded his rifle again as he spoke, drawing his sidearm to do the same. "Ready to proceed on your command, Warlord."

"In the trucks, and someone slap some Medi on the Rook's ribs. Don't want our Brute-killer to get knocked out of the fight too soon, hah!" The Warlord bellowed with a mirthful chuckle that many Krogan matched, chuckling and pointing his rifle into the air, waving the Krogan toward the Tomkahs. "Now load up, Krogan. We got three more'o these stops to make on the way to the Shroud and a long damn day."

Cheers went up at that, the bravado of soldiers coming off a win, and the Krogan started to file off to board the Tomkahs or start entrenching with the Tomkah that would be staying to support them. A rear guard action, which meant a very _very_ unpredictable job.

He wished them well and returned to his seat, ready for the next fight.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Five hours passed of the fighting, water chugged in the Tomkahs as Krogans passed around canteens, thermal clips and ration bars while they trundled along, with the ten minute naps of a long armored assault that he could catch between skirmishes and slogging battles. The surviving three sat in the Tomkah, licking their wounds and resting before the next fight ahead of them.

The Warlord who'd had him given a new knife had died in the last fight, exhausted but too stubborn a warrior to yield his ground, torn in half by a Brute before Wrex slammed into it like a Biotic artillery shell as a result. The other Warlord, Wreav, was just as tired but dogged nonetheless, covered in bleeding cuts, bullet holes and burns, most of which seemed not to be healing.

Even krogan regeneration had a limit, then, probably relating to calorie stores. A thought that had him holding out a tasteless ration bar for the Krogan who waved it off, grunting that, "He was fine, and a Human would need more energy to keep up."

"Wreav already ate, John." Wrex grunted, sitting between them in the Tomkah and looking as bad as his brother - a revelation that had only come off of the previous Warlord's death - with slowly bleeding wounds scored across his arms and ragged claw marks ripped along his back. "S'your ration, you eat it. You need your strength just as much as we do for the last push, heh heh…"

Helmet sitting in his lap, he simply nodded and took another bite of the tasteless faux-oatmeal bar, forcing it down regardless and accepting the canteen Wreav leaned over to offer, grunting, "Impressive fighting, for a Human. Day long nearin', hordes of the bastards, heavy fire… Seen you take some hits, too."

"I'm used to it." He said shortly, for once more due to his dry and sore throat than his dislike of wasteful talking. These were the kinds of fights he was made for, trained for… The kinds he'd fought in for years. "I'm just disappointed we lost the other Warlord."

"Died like a Krogan ought to." Wreav grunted, nodding along with his brother. Raising his voice so the equally exhausted Tomkah crew around them could hear, the Krogan roared. "On his feet, roaring, and ripping into his enemies like a mad Varren! For his clan! For Tuchanka! For the _Cure_!"

Again the cries went up and this time, in spite of himself and before he realized he was even doing it, he raised a fist silently along with them in mute support. Why, he didn't know, and simply pinned it on exhaustion and the adrenaline high from the constant fighting.

They continued on in silence for several more minutes after that, the ODST drinking his fill and then replacing his helmet on his head and rolling his sore shoulder. He wasn't in any better shape than the Krogans, he knew, his armor covered in dents, pits from glancing rounds when his shields dropped, and a cut scoured along the inside of his thigh, sealed up by Medi-Gel and wrapped in an off-white bandage. And his cracked rib, that smarted as the Medi-Gel's anesthetic effect began wearing off, the ODST resigning himself to it now.

Wounded, lower on ammunition than he'd have liked, and armor covered in gouges, bullet pockmarks and small scratches…

The sensation was an odd sort of cross between satisfaction, comfort of a sort and resignation, something he couldn't place. As the Tomkah slowed and Wrex rolled his shoulders to stretch before the next fight, he pushed the thoughts away and prepared to get to work once again.

"What's wrong? We shouldn't be at the assault site yet." Wrex called out, standing and shouting up the angled steps at the Krogan pilots.

"Roads blocked, High Warlord. Looks like some of the ruins collapsed onto it, just a cliff on one side and an old, underground temple on the other. No way through." One called back, the Tomkah backing up and turning as he spoke. "We're assuming a defensive stance while the infantry and support vehicles move up. We'll need Krogan out there to move the debris."

Snarling, Wrex punched the release for the door and leaned out, glaring ahead of the Tomkah and then swearing, "Shit… I'll get on the horn with Shepard, let her know what's going on. Rook, you're not strong enough to move the debris, so I want you on lookout."

"Acknowledged." The Krogan leaned back to let him through, the ODST scanning the area outside in search of a good vantage.

Far ahead of them, he saw their objective. The Shroud, looming high in the air and pumping particulates into the atmosphere, surrounded by a temple of sorts and with a Reaper stood in front of it. Almost looking at them, which might have been the case really. It was likely it wouldn't fire, though, at this range. It would almost certainly miss and do nothing, assuming its weapons _had_ that range in a planet's gravity.

The best vantage point he could find was a stack of rocks on the edge of the cliff that looked safe enough to climb, the transdimensional trooper collapsing his rifle to climb it. Kneeling at the top, he set to scanning the horizon towards the Shroud and around them, the Tomkahs pulling in behind them soon enough.

"John!" He turned, looking down ten minutes after he'd climbed atop the rocks, to see Shepard standing there with her hands on her hips. "Get down here, need to talk to you. Wrex cleared it, the Tomkahs have guns out now so it's fine."

"What is it, ma'am?" He asked finally, when he was on the ground again, leaning against he rocks with his rifle across his chest.

"Checking in. You good? I see the bandage, by the way, so don't tell me you're 'fine' and wave it off." He sighed, but she crossed her arms, clearly ready to wait him out if he tried that approach, and so he nodded.

"Small crack in a rib, cuts on my inner leg, and various bruising. All treated, none hindrances to combat effectiveness." To prove his point, he shifted all his weight onto the wounded leg and shrugged. "I'm combat capable, ma'am."

"More than, from the shit I'm hearin' about you out there…" She shook her head and turned, waving for him to follow her as she spoke. "Did you _seriously_ stab a knife into a Brute to stick a grenade to?"

"Affirmative."

"That's fucking insane…" She shook her head but seemed impressed at the same time, the tone of her voice carrying it. More serious as they moved past the Tomkahs towards where Wrex was standing, speaking to several Krogan, she went on. "You've done good work, John. Wrex told me all about it, he's… Got a lot of respect for you."

"Acknowledged." He could tell, really, and the Krogan they passed now paid him a few nods of their own. Less than Shepard by a country mile, he knew, but still more than he'd started out getting. "What's the mission's status?"

"Not green, Lance Corporal." She sighed, shaking her head, "Not green by a damn sight… But we'll get it done, same as always."

"Affirmative."

Pushing past his Krogan, Wrex thundered towards them, face a storm of rage that gave even Shepard pause. Before either could speak, he did, spitting the words, "The Turians aren't coming. Their entire god damn _wing_ is grounded."

"What?" Shepard demanded, arms slowly dropping to her side in shock. "They're _grounded_? How?"

"Sabotage." Wrex snarled, shaking his great head and spitting. "And we both know who'd use sabotage to stop this cure going through."

The Salarians were known as agents, spies and saboteurs, able to sometimes ground _fleets_ for months if they needed to. They employed knowledge, deception, assassination, and sabotage to achieve their objectives in whatever interests they pursued. And they were the only people who had aligned _against_ the cure for the Genophage, even proposing sabotage to Shepard already.

No air support meant that they couldn't kill the Reaper, and that meant no cure…

"We'll withdraw." Shepard finally said, the words sounding choked as she said them, looking up at Wrex. "I'm sorry, but… We'll pull back, regroup, coordinate another strike on the Shroud. Maybe the Alliance fleets can spare… _Something_."

"The Shroud is poisoning my planet, Shepard. It'll take weeks to form up for another assault, _if_ we get the support for it at all. Which I don't think is a gaurantee." Wrex growled, sounding for the first time since he'd known the Warlord genuinely frightened. "We withdraw… The planet dies, and my species with it."

"Wrex, we don't have the men for an assault like that-"

"Permission to speak freely, Commander." He interrupted, the Spectre rounding on him in surprise. Hesitating only a moment, eyes like frozen jade behind her visor while she considered him, she finally nodded and he spoke. "Kalros… We summon her, the Reaper will target her and she'll kill it."

"That's past the Reapers." Wrex pointed out, eyes narrowing on him matched by dozens of other Krogan gazes. "You'd have to push past 'em to get to it, and without the air support… Our Tomkahs don't have the staying power. They won't survive long enough to bring it down, and if we don't kill it the Reaper will just cut us to pieces."

"No assault." He said simply, shaking his head and adjusting his grip on his Harrier anxiously. "An _infiltration_." He turned to Shepard, giving the woman a level stare as his helmet depolarized. "My pod can't survive exoatmospheric reentry, but… Low altitude, in-atmposhere, I could drop right into the temple and summon Kalros."

"That's suicide." Wrex was quick to point out, stepping close and glancing between him and the Commander. "We can't… You'll have no support in there. The Reapers will come, with or without the Destroyer."

"Feet first into Hell." He said simply, rolling his shoulders and setting his jaw. Holding up an open hand for the Krogan, he said, "My job is just to drop in there. Your job is to make sure it's crowded when I get there, Wrex."

"Rookie…" Shepard's voice was low, mixed with emotion as he turned and looked at her. Her eyes were hard though and, after a moment, she sighed and spoke to Wrex instead. "Normandy can pick us up here inside a couple minutes, Wrex. Make the call, I'll follow it no matter what it is."

"Hm…" Several seconds passed before Wrex spoke, raising his voice to speak to the Krogan assembled there around him. "What say you, Krogan? The Turians have shown themselves steadfast, and the Humans too. Right now, around this world, Human, Turian and Krogan all fight and die together, soaking Tuchankan soil. They die for us, for _our_ world. Thousands of them, fighting and dying here while their own worlds die to Reaper fire."

"But the Salarians stab us in the back… Cowards, willing to throw these sacrifices away like Varren shit… Just as we closed on a cure for the Genophage, the salvation of our _species_ , the Salarians betray us. Betray those Turians, those Humans… And turn our mission into suicide." Pushing past the ODST and walking through his men, the Krogan parting as he did and leaving a wake between the Warlord and the two Humans, the Krogan let the murmurs carry through the crowd. Turning, he pointed through the Krogan at the Humans standing awed into silence and roared, "And still these two fight! For us! One risks her ship and her crew, the other drops straight into his death."

"For _us!_ " He roared, slamming his fists into his chest and letting the sound echo. "The ODST will make his drop, that much is just a fact. Has to happen, simple as that. But I say this… I say that when he does, we _join_ him out there!" He let the words echo for a moment, to sink in, before he went on, "We charge into the Reaper's lines, bring them every. Last. _Pound_ of Krogan we have here. Every bullet, hell, every _fist_ when it gets to that! We make a _legend_ with him, of the hundred Krogan who charged into hell, and the Human who dove into its very _depths_ for their species to continue!"

"I say that if John Doe's blood is going to feed Tuchanka…. If his blood is to soak this soil, then it will not be alone!" Wrex took a breath and nodded to him deeply, a sign of respect from the highest Warlord in the species. Raising his head, he promised, "My blood will spill with him, and for him if he needs it. Enough alien blood has soaked our soil, earned us this. So let's soak the soil with some Reaper blood! For Tuchanka!"

"For Tuchanka!" Sixty voices cried, raising fists into the air and roaring their defiance.

"For the small ones!" Wrex roared as follow up, the other Krogan somehow bellowing even more powerfully at _that_ than the cries of 'Tuchanka'.

"You're not allowed to die out there." Shepard said quietly as the Krogan shuffled off, preparing weapons, armor and Tomkahs for the battle to come. Giving him a hard look through her visor, she added, "I'm _ordering_ you to make it back in one piece, Rookie. Understood?"

"Acknowledged." He said as Wrex moved through the bustling Krogan towards them, looking down on him until he asked, "What is it?"

Reaching out, he laid a hand on his shoulder and said simply, "Thank you, John. Whatever comes, know that from this moment forward you are as Krogan to me. And you have a homeworld here, on Tuchankan soil, if you ever need it. I'll make sure this legend survives for centuries if I have to write the damn thing myself. John isn't a very _Krogan_ name but, eh, I'm sure after today it will be."

"I…" He didn't know what to say to that, he'd just wanted to save the Krogan with so much riding on it, but… He hadn't expected _any_ of this to be a result of that. Nodding, he simply said, "Acknowledged."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"You're out of your mind…" Primarch Victus said when they returned to the Normandy inside an hour later, standing in the shuttle bay while Vega and Liara used biotics and brute strength to move the old and damaged pod out into the very center of the bay. "Corporal, I don't know what mad Spirits have possessed you, but _that_ is not going to survive landing."

"It won't need to." He said simply, watching the blue Biotics fade as the damaged pod was dropped on the cargo bay floor. "I just need to survive landing."

"That… Is going to be a hell of an ask on a three hour time limit, even _with_ everyone on hand to get it done." The Primarch sighed, shaking his scaly head and giving the still-armored ODST a look. "You sure about this? I can have a Turian strike team here in a few days, hell, I'll move a _fleet_ in if I have to."

"You do that, you'll lose colonies." Shepard pointed out sharply, carrying a crate as large as she was past the Turian Primarch and setting it down in front of the damaged drop pod. "He won't back down from this if that's the price. Will you, Rook?"

"Negative."

"It's a death sentence!" The Turian barked shortly, sounding more resigned than angry somehow and once again shaking his scaly head. Mandibles clicking his agitation, he asked, "Why is that even _on_ this ship?"

"RnD wanted it, whenever we got the time for it." Shepard dismissed easily while the crates it had been behind were moved back against the wall where the pod had been tucked safely away. "Now, turns out, we need the damn thing. So I guess RnD won't be getting their hands on it after all, and I bet that just grinds their gears something fierce. Once Hackett hears about this… Oh boy."

"It's salvageable." For one last drop at least, judging from its state it wouldn't be more than scrap metal after. The bottom and sides were scorched from his reentry at Earth, and the armor had been scarred all to hell in the landing as well. "I'll need a thermal barrier of some kind. The heat protection on the pod itself is gone, and even short tac-drops are too hot for the pod to stay solid without it."

"Kinetic and thermal barriers should do the trick, at least for a little bit." Cortez suggested, once the crates had been arranged to his liking and he could join the conversation, circling with the Primarch and the other two Humans at the base of the pod. "I can get those installed, strap a power system in on the top to make the drop… Should be fine."

"I brought the armor plating." Shepard grunted, waving a hand at the rugged orange-brown crate she'd hauled over. "Tuchankan made for atmospheric reentry and battlearmor on the Tomkahs, out in the badlands. On ships it can take a small asteroid, and on Tomkahs it's meant to stand down Thresher Maws."

"The door?" He asked, looking to the Commander.

"Strap some of the plates across, banded around it, and line the sides in directional charges to blow it off. We wrap the bottom of the pod in the armor, cut holes for the directional thrusters, then wrap it up pod until we run out. Best we got, unless anyone has problems with the idea?" It was a reasonable suggestion, and the only thing they could really bank on with so little time, so no one voiced a protest. Nodding she grunted, "Alright then, order time…"

"Primarch Victus, Liara, get the armor rigging underway. Cortez, you're on the thermal and kinetic barriers, get 'em installed and overclocked. I don't want any failures on that end, strip one out of a damn Kodiak if you need to." Turning, she looked at Liara and went on, "Coordinate with Wrex and Garrus, Liara. I want you and that crazy Turian to head down there with Vega and be ready to assist in the secondary assault as soon as Rook's pod launches."

"And me?" He asked as the others filed off to do their jobs, the woman looking at the ODST sourly.

"Garrus and several technicians are going to get your armor repaired and upgrade your shield with a Spectre variant like the one I use." She said simply, the man nodding understandingly. " _You_ are going to the Med-Bay to get your leg and rib properly treated, and then getting a solid meal and a nap while we work. I'm going to upgrade your rifle with a high-caliber barrel and recoil dampener like your Avenger had."

"I don't need-"

"I don't give a _damn_ what you say you need." She snapped suddenly and quietly, the other soldier flinching. Hard, green eyes landed on him and Shepard took a breath, as though forcing herself to relax. "This is a suicide drop, you know that. And I know that, in your world, these kinds of drops are simple math for you. But not here, and not for me."

"Commander-"

"Shush. Interrupting is rude, John." She waved a hand at him, wagging a finger as though she were chastising him like a mother would a child. ""I want to know why you're so damn adamant about doing this. You have to know this is probably going to kill you…"

"I couldn't save my home world." He said simply, waving a hand weakly at the side of the ship he knew to be facing Tuchanka. "I just…" Words failed him and he sighed, shrugging instead and simplifying it. "I won't let Wrex lose his. Not if I can help it."

The woman looked at him for a long time, her eyes searching his for… Something before she finally nodded in a tired, resigned sort of way, "Alright. I get it. If I was you, in the same position and with the same background… I'd do the same damn thing."

Grabbing his arm, she pulled him into a sudden hug, arms squeezing him tight enough that his armor creaked in protest, she added, "I'm proud of you, Rook. I hope you know that. Another Jack or Grunt, and you _better_ come back so we can meet them." Pulling away she turned, waving a hand over her shoulder, "Get to the Med-Bay, we've _all_ got a hell of a lot of work to do."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"We'll seal you in once you're settled in." Cortez explained as he climbed over the ribbed armor wrapped like a cinnamon roll around the bottom of his pod, dropping into the seat and accepting the Harrier as it was handed down to him, along with a small wireless detonator that fit snugly into his palm. " _That_ will set of the charges that line it, which will blow most of the ribs of armor out around the pod."

"Acknowledged." He set it aside where he could easily reach it with a nod. The expulsion of the ribbed armor would make a good entry maneuver on the ground, the shrapnel would more than clear out anything around him.

"The Commander is headed down to the ground to join the fight." Cortez went on, smiling reassuringly at him from on top of the pod. "I'll be riding down in my Kodiak too, once you drop and we repressurize the 'Bay. We'll, uh… We'll cover you as best we can, just hit those buttons and hold out. Alright?"

"I will." Or he'd try, at least. "I requisitioned grenades?"

"Yep." He turned, reaching down somewhere he couldn't see from inside the pod, and then handed down the bandolier of grenades. He wrapped the belt around his waist just below his breastplate. "Three of 'em, four second timers. Be careful when you're usin' 'em, though, the Reapers will try and get close."

"Affirmative." He already knew that, but he assumed the man was just anxious. He could practically _feel it_ in the air around him throughout the last few hours. "Tuchankan time?"

"You'll be falling with the setting sun on your back, like you asked." That'd probably be of _some_ help at least. Especially combined with the Krogan assault. "Last check. You got everything you need?"

"Affirmative." The other man simply nodded and slid out of view, leaving the Rookie alone in his pod. The next ten minutes were spent waiting while the last pieces of armor were riveted to his pod, the sound loud enough to trigger his helmet's audio-dampeners. Taking a breath, he murmured, "Feet first into Hell…"

It was _certainly_ going to be crowded when he got there if he had anything to do with it.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT :**_

 _ **For Supporters, in the next coming weeks, I will be releasing the Prologue for my first original content book, Re:Programmed. I've spent the last year working on it, and can't wait to hear what people have to say on it. And I wanted to release some evidence of that, to show everyone what we're doing over here.**_

 _ **It will be Supporter exclusive, though, because without them it wouldn't exist.**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Scarease :**_

 **Will bear it in mind.**

 _ **SO58 :**_

 **Yeah, I was building up to this moment the whole time. I figured the two could relate, and thus bond until John refused to let the Krogan lose this. And thus comes the SOIEV back into the frame~**

 _ **SD Phantom :**_

 **I've been anticipating this chapter for weeks, honestly. The payoff to Wrex and Rookie's bond, the camaraderie… I just hope the speech was suitably badass.**

 _ **Predator 1701 :**_

 **Good news, friend~! Have a new chapter.**


	15. Chapter 15

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

_**Official Supporters:**_

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 _ **Priest, Xager the Chaos King**_

 _ **Acolyte, DigiDemonLord**_

 _ **Acolyte, Stonecold**_

 _ **Initiate, Greg Gibson**_

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"Atmospheric seal check?" Ten minutes out, Cortez was still running spot checks on the rig they'd set up, standing up in cargo-observation. He could see the man through one of his glass panels, flicking across a data-pad screen anxiously.

"Green." As green as possible, at least, given the state of the pod. They weren't designed for multi-drop, after all.

"Kinetic barrier generator?" He glanced above his head, where the small thing had been _literally_ welded in. A mess of blackened metal and grey steel that clashed with the black interior of his pod, but one that seemed to be functioning.

"Green." It was humming quietly at least, and he hoped to hell that meant it was functioning. Curious, he checked it with his Omni-Tool to verify everything was fine. Beside it, the secondary thermal generator was also humming, and he added before Cortez could ask, "Scanning thermal barrier generator… Green."

"Ammunition check?"

"Green." He'd made _damn_ sure of that before they sealed him in. Getting out would be an option, after all. "All systems green, ready for drop, Lieutenant Cortez."

"Got it, patching the Commander's comm unit in now." He nodded even though the pilot couldn't see it and drummed his fingers on his armored legs anxiously while he worked on that. No matter how many times he did it, the drop always terrified him… "Got it, handing you off now, Rookie. And, uh, good luck out there. Try not to, you know, get killed on us?"

"Affirmative."

"Rook, Shepard here. I'm showing mild signal interference on my end. How's my connection?" Her voice was layered by static and the sound of muted wind, which told him she was using a Krogan communicator in a building somewhere. Her helmet would mute the external audio completely, after all.

"Clear enough."

"Good. We're short on time before the operation begins, so I'll make this quick." Her words were clipped and icy, strained in a way, and he understood why. This drop's success or failure probably determined the fate of the _galaxy_ , and she couldn't do anything to improve the odds of success. "Krogan infantry are massing with armor support at my location and the other fortified points we established. Five minutes prior to your actual drop, they'll charge, shell the area, do whatever else they can, all to distract the Reaper. Draw its infantry out."

Which would mean less targets in his area when he landed. Useful. "Acknowledged. Air support?"

"The Normandy will be conducting long range fire support missions, and while the Turians have no bombers or gun ships after the sabotage, they're dedicating _interceptor_ craft to strafing runs." Basically useless, he was sure, beyond the very basic ideas of strafing runs. But a show of support either way, and radar signatures in the air to obfuscate his own signature, so it had its uses. "Turian special forces is also working on infiltrating _towards_ the temple itself right now, as best they can, to support your exfiltration."

"Which direction?"

"South." She said quickly, "Wrex and I will be spearheading an assault towards the temple and Shroud respectively, to assist the Turians supporting you and disperse the Cure at the same time. Before the Reapers can stop it. Or the damn Salarians…" Not that anyone believed that they wouldn't _try_ , he was sure. "You hit the switches, and you run South. You'll be surrounded by enemies, though, so be careful."

"I will, Ma'am." An alert pinged on his HUD and he sighed, taking a deep and steadying breath. The drumming of his fingers on his legs stopped, traded for a methodical drawing of his Harrier, and the same rechecks he always did before a drop. Habitual anxiety, the kind that could never really be trained out, and that his rational mind knew was meaningless. "It's time, Commander. Do you have anything else to relay to me before operation start?"

"Just that you aren't allowed to die." She said shortly, her voice surprisingly gentle. "I won't see you until after the Genophage is cured. I'll be nearby, though, so if you get in too deep, then I can move to assist. Stay safe out there, John."

"I will. And…" He sighed and shook his head, ending the call without finishing his thought. She'd be just fine, he knew _that_ for a fact, and she didn't need his well wishes to get through the mission. Swapping to the link to Joker and Cortez both, he asked, "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be, you… God damn crazy person. Whoever thought jumping out of working ships was a good idea needs to get help..." The man sighed, either tired or stressed the ODST couldn't tell and didn't care, and then moved on in a _somewhat_ more official manner. "Two minutes out, Sir. The Reaper _has_ noticed us, but doesn't seem to care enough to move from the Shroud itself. Angling for a drop approach now. Lieutenant Cortez, equalize inner-outer atmospheric pressure."

"Understood, Sir." A few seconds passed and the man's voice returned, clipped and short. "Process completed, Sir. EDI, initiate Mass Effect field positioning of the drop pod for the insertion operation."

"Working now." He felt the pod _shudder_ and his sense of gravity shift as the Mass Effect fields, under the ship's AI controls, lift his pod from the metal grating of the shuttle-bay floor. Thirty seconds later, the AI spoke again in that almost eerily polite voice she always used, "Pod in position, Lieutenants. Ready for tactical sub-orbital insertion operation on your command."

"Estimated time to landfall is thirty seconds, Rookie." Cortez added quickly, which the ODST acknowledged with a grunt and nothing else. Thirty seconds was a long time to be falling, but… The Reapers wouldn't be expecting this. "Just finished last checks on the ME field generators and field manipulators. We're ready down here, Joker, it's back to you.

"Making final positioning maneuvers, on approach to drop coordinates. Dropping in five seconds, hold on to your asses. Gonna have to get artsy with this angle..." Nothing else to do, with his rifle once more locked safely in place to prevent its being damaged, he began to count.

" _One one thousand..."_ He felt the ship shudder, the wind buffeting its hull quietly but somehow roaring in his ears all the same. As the wind were trying to outdo the heartbeat, thrumming in his ears.

" _Two one thousand… Three one thousands..."_ He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath to once again steady himself. The sound of his own heartbeat faded, replaced by the now _much_ louder roar of the wind outside, buffeting his pod as the bay door slid opened behind him. He felt another gentle tremor as the Mass Effect fields began to release just as he hit the fourth second, and finally he felt himself relax.

" _Five one thousands."_ Eyes closed against the shift in gravity, he felt the change as wind began buffeting against his hull. The wind howled against him and spun the pod, but the kinetic and thermal barriers protected him inside the metal casket from the worst of the wind and heat. Silent inside, all he could do was wait until he felt the ground and gravity once more claim dominion over him.

But he'd have been telling a lie if he said he didn't feel at him there, in the sky, plummeting towards the distant Tuchankan soil.

Twenty five seconds later by his count, he felt his shuttle slam _through_ something and then into the more solid ground, hard enough he would have been thrown from his seat if not for the harness he wore, his hands gripping the arms of his pod's chair hard enough his fingers ached. As his shuttle rolled across the ground, he heard the recognizable, heavy thuds of bodies on the metal until he finally came to a stop. He took a breath and waited, Omni-Tool glowing dimly in the dark interior of his pod, no brighter than embers from a fire.

Outside, he heard heavy footfalls around the pod, and then the sounds of _something_ climbing on it. Then several somethings, and his hand moved to hover over the detonator for the charges lining the outside of his drop pod. His eyes watched the two windows still bare of the armor, claws and hands scraping along his pod's hull outside with loud scraping and clawing noises, until finally a blue, five digited hand slapped against the window in search of purchase. It pulled the Husk attached to it up, face hovering in front of the window for a moment before it recognized him and hiss mutely.

"Welcome to Hell." He grunted, slamming his hand against the 'Tool's trigger for emphasis and then gritting his teeth. The explosives _thumped_ around him, the sound and force slamming into him a scant second before his helmet muted the audio to protect him, jerking the pod in place with its force, and hurled the armored sections through the air at a hundred miles an hour's worth of subsonic, shredded death.

The trooper yanked his Harrier free of its holster beside him, standing on his seat and poking his head and shoulders through the ragged tear, sweeping around him in a quick circle and surveying the damages around him. Dozens of Husks, Brutes, even a few Marauders lay around him shredded, impaled, burned and crushed under the chunks and shards of armor plating. Then the ground _shook_ under him and the Reaper, looming above, roared in rage. His helmet slammed the external audio-mute down instantly, but he _felt_ the vibrations through his helmet regardless.

He clambered out of the pod as quickly as he could with his bones _vibrating_ inside his body, then stumbled and fell when he hit the ground. It was like his center of balance was being thrown off by something, probably involved with the _deafening_ sound cascading down onto him. _Something_ in the corner of his vision caught his attention and he turned, rifle snapping up, to belt rounds he couldn't hear or even _feel_ firing into the staggering, bleeding Husk trying to meander towards him. His aim was off from the sensations drumming through him from the sound, four rounds whipping through the air around the Husk before five ripped into its body and threw it back against the broken concrete behind it.

In the distance, he could hear the muted sounds of gunfire, explosions and the other assorted sounds of battle. He could also pick up footfalls and roars, near enough that he could pick them out over the gunfire, and knew reinforcements were on their way for the Reapers he'd killed in his landing. He ignored it, turning to run towards one of the raised walkways the Hammers were place on, reaching the end and slamming his hand down on the button unmolested.

Then something behind him bellowed and he turned, a wounded and bleeding Brute staggering into view at the end of the platform. So the explosives hadn't killed all of them… To be expected of the haphazardly made weaponization of his pod, normally unarmed and thus not made or shaped for the purpose of also being a _bomb_.

Sprinting towards it, he traded his rifle for a grenade in one hand and a glob of Omni-Gel in the other and the Brute roared in rage, swinging a clumsy strike at him as he met it. Barely stepping to its left and then ducking under its arm, he slapped the Omni-Gel against it in the crook of its grotesque elbow, and then the grenade as well before he pressed against its chest to move with it. The creature, dumb and confused, planted its heavy arm and lifted its weak one, looking for him but only creating an opening for him to duck through. As though in realization of its mistake, it roared as he ran from it.

The sound vanished in a muted _thump_ of the grenade going off behind him, showering his back in metal and flesh along with the ground ahead of him as he ran. He heard the pattering and thudding of armored feet, turning his upper body and firing rounds into the rushing Husks and Cannibals headed towards him from the temple's more 'traditional' entrance. The heavy rounds tore through the unarmored Reapers, their bodies falling wounded or dead and then being trampled under those behind them as he ran from the dozens that pursued him as well as their awkward gaits allowed. Reapers, it seemed, didn't design their creatures for _speed_.

The plan had worked, he knew from the small number of dredges chasing him as he ascended the stairs to the last Hammer, slamming in a fresh clip and turning at the apex of the steps to put short bursts into the Reapers close enough to worry him. They fell and, still firing, a hand fished the second grenade off his belt and hurled it towards the entrance, now a mass of Reaper limbs headed towards him. Once again, he turned before it detonated, but he felt the scraps slamming into and around him.

Halfway to the last Hammer, he allowed himself to smile.

And then cried out, shoulder jerking to the side as a round slammed into him hard enough to nearly throw him off his feet. He staggered, barrier sparking, and searched around himself for the Reaper that had done it. All he saw was a distant glint of light lost among the stone surrounding the temple ruins before, soundless, another round slammed into and _through_ his chestplate. He choked, felt the round smack into his backplate, and staggered again before leaning against the wall to his right and sinking to a choking knee, wheezing for breath.

Turning at the sound of feet, and in spite of the fire in his chest, he emptied his clip into the Husks and Cannibals clambering towards him. Seeing the weak creatures give way to the armored hulk of a Brute, he plucked his last grenade from his belt and forced himself to stand, pitching it at the creature and turning towards the Hammer again.

He made it three steps before another soundless round slammed home, this time into the unarmored juncture between the plating on his thigh and his knee-guard, tearing through the bodysuit and flesh beneath that like paper. Screaming in surprise and pain, he did fall this time, his rifle clattering ahead of him.

"-ok!" The sound was staticy and indiscernible, covered in static, but deep and bassy in an unmistakably Krogan way. Wrex, he was sure, forcing himself to rise on hands and knees and crawl to his rifle. "Wher- lros? -s happen-"

Hoping it would get through, activated his line and grunted, "Sniper took out my leg."

"Your -mn leg?" The voice was angry, now, but feminine. Shepard was on the channel too, apparently, the duo likely having called for an update. He ignored the pain, forcing himself to rise and stagger towards the Hammer, turning to lean against it and slam a fresh clip in, belting rounds towards the Reapers approaching him. "-king Sal- -ns. -nding Cortez for -up. -ld on."

"Negative. We need Kalros." The Krogan did, at least, and so he turned and looked around himself. Sand, shifting and too loose for even the Reapers to stand on…

"I am -dering-"

Another mute sound slammed into him, this one carving through the side of his helmet and leaving a bloody furrow in the flesh underneath. He snarled, in pain or defiance he wasn't sure what, and slammed a hand down into the button. Then a last round punching into his chestplate and shattered his collarbone through it, throwing him back and to the side.

Into a sea of sand and blissful blackness.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"How'd it go?" His eyes snapped open, looking up at blue sky with plumes of smoke climbing into it. Sitting up, he was surprised by the lack of burning pain, hands searching his chest plate for holes or blood and coming back impossibly clean. "You're unconscious, Rookie. In shock from multiple gunshots and a bad fall."

"Shock…" He turned, looking at the broken man laying in his ruined, melted black armor. "Gage?"

"Yep. The hell you doin' comin' to _me_ when you're about to die?" The man laughed and then coughed, shaking his burned and old head. Then he smiled bitterly and sighed, "Okay, laughing is bad… Noted."

"Anyway, doesn't matter." The man moved on before either of them could say anything on that, smiling in spite of the agony he _should_ have been in, and then repeated, "How'd it go, Rookie? I mean, you outran the nuke, at least, so… Good on you for that."

"Reach fell." He said quietly, unsure of what to say really.

"I know." Gage tapped a finger to his head and smirked, raising a burned brow at him mockingly. "I'm in your head, I know what you know. Not asking about the UNSC, askin' about your new team. Your new home."

"I don't…" He trailed off, turning to look out at the burning city and then smiling sadly. "They're good people. Some of them are aliens, but… Different than the Covenant. Better. Like…"

"Friends?" Gage asked, raising that brow even higher and earning a nod from the other, younger soldier. "An alien just shot you, though, didn't he? A Salarian, right? Aliens can't be that good if they're shooting you when you're trying to save their nasty, scaly asses from the Reapers. Makes me wonder why you're fighting in this war..."

"Earth is-"

"In danger, but not _your_ Earth." Gage pointed out, wagging a finger, chastising him as though the two and a half decade long life hadn't gotten him away from being treated like a child. "You were free here, in this galaxy, universe, whatever the hell. You were _free_. The Reapers would have gotten you eventually, but…" He shrugged ruined shoulders, "You could have left the military, retired somewhere hidden for years."

"They would have found me eventually." He knew it, the Reapers would sweep every world for anything they deemed a threat. Here, there, or somewhere between on a battlefield, he'd die anyways. "This kind of war, there's no hiding from it. You know that as well as anyone."

"We have Javik's memories too, up here in our noggins. We _both_ know that you could have hidden for the rest of your life, if you wanted to." He pointed out, giving the younger ODST a hard look. "Don't lie to me, I'm _you_ so I'll know. Why did you agree to fight in some random fuckoff war you had nothing to do with?"

"I wanted to fight."

"You wanted to _die_." Gage corrected and, while he wanted to argue, he… Couldn't bring himself to. He had wanted to die, in service to protecting Earth, but…

"I don't anymore." He said quietly, _hopefully_ , looking to the other ODST as though for confirmation.

"And now you don't. Not anymore, which is a _really_ good thing for you." The man grinned his agreement, holding up the detonator to the nuke behind him, and added, "Because getting shot _hurts_ like hell, let me tell you."

"And some absolute _prick_ just gave us an adrenaline shot."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Gah!" He heaved for breath and then grit his teeth through the pain that caused, arms curling around his chest for a moment before a slender pair of hands grabbed one arm and much more massive fingers wrapped around the other, prying them apart while a third figure with equally meaty hands jabbed something into his side. "What is-"

"Medi-Gel." Shepard, her voice tight and strained, answered before he could finish the question. True enough, the cooling sensation spread across his chest and his vision began to clear while she went on, "You got shot to shit by a sniper. Your wounds are severe, but… But you'll be fine."

"The Hammers, did they-"

"Kalros came runnin', Rook, and the Reapers' tactics went right to hell with the Reaper." The voice was low, grainy and basy, and clearly Wrex by how he spoke. Holding him down, the Krogan added, "Found you bleedin' out in the sand, tryin' to swim, and dragged you into a Tomkah. Got a doc here patching you up best a Krogan could hope for while we head for the Hollows to announce the victory."

"The Cure went through, Rookie." He turned bleary eyes on Shepard, the woman's helmet gone, face grimy and tear-tracked but smiling regardless. "The Turians pulled the attention off you, and the Korgan thinned them out, but…"

"You saved a species, John." Wrex said, almost reverently, laying a hand on his good shoulder and nodding grimly. " _My_ species, in fact. You just made a legend, Rook. Summoned the Mother of Thresher Maws, then swam with her while she tore apart a Reaper… And you _lived through it_. Ha!"

"Be quiet, loud sounds are going to be quite painful for him. Now shoo, he needs the anesthetic and rest." The Krogan, voice lighter and softer. Feminine even. Wrex nodded and shuffled aside, the other Krogan laying a hand on his chest gently and pressing a needle against his skin, speaking softly. "He's correct, though. Our children will hear tales of the skyfalled Human who called on the Maw Mother and swam her sands to save our race, I shall ensure it."

"Get some sleep, John." Shepard ordered gently, the woman smiling down at him as the drugs kicked in and forced him into unconsciousness.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Wrex, that Salarian is still out there." She pointed out quietly, watching the ODST being carried away on a stretcher towards the shuttle to be taken to the Normandy. Beside her, the old Krogan hummed an affirmative and she grinned. "EDI says no ships have left the planet yet aside from a Turian shuttle, that the Primarch knows was for a medi-vac."

"Blood Pack is out there, huntin' 'em down on my orders." He grunted, arms crossed beside her. Turning to look at her, he grinned and asked, "You thinking what I'm thinking, Shep?"

"We found Saren', didn't we?" She smiled, rolling her neck until it popped. "No one shoots my squad like that and gets away with it. So you feel like a bounty hunt, while everyone puts their toys away?"

"Heh heh heh…" The Salarian wouldn't know what hit him… Aside from the fists, of course. "Let's get goin', Shepard. Been forever since I had a good old fashion bounty hunt."

The woman just nodded, turning to walk back towards the Tomkahs and _radiating_ rage enough that even the Krogan in her way very quickly got _out_ of her way. Chuckling low in the back of his throat, the Warlord followed after her without another word. Humans had a saying… Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Wrex did too. 'Don't fuck with Shepard if you liked having a pulse'.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Battle Unit :**_

 **He could also, you know, get shot five times by a sniper.**

 _ **Peroli Ryu :**_

 **About that deadly curveball…**

 _ **SD Phantom :**_

 **Glad you enjoyed it. Also, you got to ride a train? Jealousy!**

 _ **Comrade Megumin :**_

 **Glad it was that good! Hope you enjoy… (googling) Croatia?! Well then. Neat.**

 _ **Bucio :**_

 **The sabotage was the Salarians, specifically their STG operatives.**


	16. Chapter 16

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

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"You sure this is the place, Nanat?" Wrex asked quietly, looking at another Krogan. This one was smaller and younger than the High Warlord, hide marked in less scars than an older Krogan would bear and hump a few inches smaller, light armor colored a mix of drab, old browns, reds and muted greens from being handed off so often. The tracker gave the Krogan Warlord a look and then turned it on Shepard, and Wrex explained lowly, "Just looks like a slum. Doesn't scream 'Salarian' to me."

"One 'o my tracking-apprentices said he found Salarian tracks around the old building. Too small for Krogan to use, not enough structure to repurpose 'round it, so Krogan tend to leave it to crumble. Got a flat top, too. Good for shuttle landings." Left unsaid, Wrex knew, was that an abandoned building like that would be perfect for outlaws, outcasts, hunting lodges, and any other number of things. Including a hideout for infiltrators and spies, something Salarians _loved_. "S'also a direct track of _typically_ unpatrolled ground between here and the Shroud."

"It could be a forward posting then. Something permanent, this close to the Shroud." Shepard said quietly, leaning against the wall of a long-collapsed building, one of _hundreds_ in this area just like it that had been piled over time into thirty foot tall piles of concrete, useless iron and whatever else they found in the scavenging around the old Temple to Kalros. "Lots of ruined buildings, not a lot of through traffic but the roads are kept clear for trade and scavenging… It'd be perfect to monitor the Shroud and the area."

"If it's permanent, means that they probably know we're coming, Shepard." He pointed out, the woman nodding mutely at the information and adjusting her grip on her rifle. "Means they're prepared, too."

"Good." She said quietly, turning the rifle in her hand to check the ammo block idly. "Don't care about it, either. I want three alive, counting the officer in charge, if possible. If not, just the officer is fine."

"Confirmation they did it?" He asked, checking his own shotgun, trading out a thermal clip absently.

"S'what I want him for, yeah." She answered equally shortly, shouldering her rifle when she was satisfied. "Your planet, so if you want to give the plan, I won't complain. I'd welcome not making the command call for once today, actually."

"I'll smash you grab, then. Same old same old." The High Warlord grunted, rolling his great shoulders and feeling the familiar ache of battle in them from the day's long, _long_ fighting. Even by krogan standards, they'd been at it for a while now. Just one more, for today… Not that he wasn't going to enjoy some payback for this. "Lost a lotta good Krogan today 'cuz of their bullshit. I'm going to _enjoy_ this."

"Me too." She said quietly, the two pushing off the wall without another word and stepping into the open, leaving the tracker-Krogan behind. The Salarians knew they were coming, but Wrex and Shepard _both_ knew that it wouldn't matter in the end. So there was no point trying to use subtlety. Better to crush them completely, and go in hard.

Leading the way, Wrex _slammed_ into the ramshackled metal barrier that served as the door for the hideout. Inside, the place looked _drastically_ different to how it had from the outside, clean, sleek and very much a Salarian safehouse. An overturned table that had dominated the single room hosted three Salarian agents, wielding light submachine guns that did _nothing_ as the irate Krogan charged, bowling over the table and crushing one of the Salarians as he went. The other two leapt away, turning to fire into his back, which Shepard made sure to put down with concise bursts of center mass fire.

The Salarians fell back on the bunks that lined either side of the little safehouse, Wrex barreling into the next Salarian standing beside a door that lead into a back room. The Krogan grabbed the alien and turned, hurling the alien bodily across the safehouse and into a heap at Shepard's feet.

It looked up at her and she brought a boot down, knocking it out and barking a, "One alive." Then she spared a glance to the Salarians she'd shot, one dead and the other clutching its stomach where the three rounds that punched through shields and armor had sunk in. Kneeling to apply Medi-Gel to it, she amended, "Make it two."

"Got the officer." Wrex grunted, tossing the mildly more impressively armored, green-tinged alien on the ground with his unconscious fellow. Kneeling on the floor and grinning viciously, Wrex asked, "Now, which of you boys shot my friend at the Shroud? You tell me, and I promise you live through this."

"Commander, you must know this is an act of war against the Salarian Union." The officer stated simply, folding its legs and smiling confidently, kneeling on the ground. "You can't hurt us at all. Neither can Urdnot Wrex, since he's allied to you and thus you are subject to Council punishments for what he does with you around. I will not cooperate, and you will arrange my internment according to the rules of law as a result. The same can be said of my men."

Shepard was quiet for a long time, standing above the downed Salarian with the light filtering in from outside casting her shadow across the Salarians in front of her. Then, she _laughed_. Long, loud, and like she'd heard the funniest joke ever to be uttered by mortal men, until she had to turn and lean against the wall, clutching a hand to her side as the laughing sent stitches up her sides. The Salarian leader gave his wounded comrade a confused look, smile gone from his face, and the wounded alien shrugged weakly on the ground.

"I'm sorry, I just…" She straightened and coughed, shaking her helmet head and collapsing her rifle to store on her back, still shaking her head as she approached. Drawing her Predator, she knelt in front of the lead Salarian and asked quietly, "What, exactly, makes you think for a _second_ that I'm worried about some stupid treaty right now? I'm a Spectre, I can do whatever I damn well please as long as I at least _say_ it's for the good of the Citadel. And you _fucks_ ," she said, waving the Predator between them indicatively, "just shot a man, and jeopardized the fate of the galaxy in doing so. Treason against the Citadel on behalf of the _entire_ Salarian Union, and an act of war against an alliance consisting of the Krogan Warlords, Turian Hierarchy, Volus Banking Clans _and_ Systems Alliance."

"So," she nodded, letting her arm hang down over her knee and shrugging, "I guess that means the Union will be subject of a declaration of war, if you won't cooperate. Now, how do _you_ think the Union will do in that kind of war?"

" _Please_ say you think it'll do well, Toadie." Wrex added in a rumbling tone, chortling low in his chest along with it. "I'd _love_ to land Krogan troops on Sur'Kesh, really raise some hell. I can hear the story tellers now, 'First Warlord to land twice on Sur'Kesh, and First Warlord to raze its capital.' It'll be a blast and a half, and maybe I'll even get to kill a Dalatrass myself, hah!"

"So let me try this again." Shepard said quietly, turning her head until her neck _popped_ threateningly. "Who was the sniper? Who ordered the attack? How did you know when we were launching our operation, or what it _was_? You can answer me, or you can stay quiet, and I'll get you a front row seat to the siege of Sur'Kesh."

"You wouldn't dare…" The Salarian murmured in disbelief, eyes twitching as they searched Shepard's eyes behind her mask for anything that might prove her to be lying. "The Reapers would slaughter us all, if you weakened yourselves sieging the Union. It would be… It would be suicide."

"Just who the hell do you think I am?" She barked a laugh, shaking her head and sighing contentedly. "Suicide missions are my _specialty_ , Salarian. Tracking Saren, teleporting into the Citadel where I'd be trapped _and_ surrounded by sieging Geth, leading a Krogan blitz straight to the man _you bastards shot_ and the Shroud to cure the disease you lot made… I make a business of suicide missions going well. And honestly?"

"I _love_ them." She sighed whimsically, playing the part of the crazy soldier many thought she was. Wrex knew it for what it was and rumbled a laugh that only made the Salarian prisoner even more frightened. "Some people like sex, some people like drugs, me? I like a good, _dangerous_ , mission. Something I shouldn't come back from. The-The risk just," she hummed and shook her head, "gets the heart going. So _please_ give me a good reason to up the ante."

"I-I'll answer your questions." The Salarian said quietly, shoulders sagging in defeat while the Spectre in front of him smiled thinly. "Just… Please, don't do that."

"Good idea." She said, standing again and looking to Wrex. "Send a call for your men, we'll question them all later. I'll have Liara tear this place apart and put those connections of hers to the test."

"And if they try some Salarian bullshit?" Wrex asked, already knowing what she'd say even before she turned and shrugged her armored shoulders.

"They shot my man, Wrex. Tried to kill him in cold blood. Fry 'em and eat 'em if you want to, I won't give a _fuck_ either way." Without another word backwards, she turned and left, the Salarians eying the Krogan warlord fearfully.

They wouldn't do a _damn_ thing, he knew. Too scared of Shepard to even consider it, now. Sometimes, the old Battlemaster wondered if she was a Krogan in disguise, the crazy bitch that she was.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"I'm fine." He grunted again, laid up in the Normandy's medical office once again, shirtless and with his arm in a sling and his leg in a brace to let the muscles heal. "My collar is broken and the muscles in my leg need to heal. That is all. Please, update me on-"

The door slid open, Shepard striding in with her armor on, sans helmet, covered in harsh battle damage and dirt. Shoulders sagging and head bowed, she grabbed the doctor's chair and dragged it with her to his bedside, plopping down and sighing tiredly before turning to the older woman and asking, "How is the little shit doin', doc?"

"Three broken ribs, a fracture along his collar bone, a _deep_ cut to the side of his head and mild fractures in the surrounding skull, badly pierced muscles just above his knee…" Chakwas gave him a sour glance and then added, with a bit more heat than necessary, "And a likely case of brain damage, considering everything."

"How soon can you get him up?" The commando asked mechanically, clearly exhausted in a way that worried the ODST. She caught his look and he realized how obvious his worry must have been when her face softened, the edges of her eyes crinkling a bit and lips turning up in a small smile. "Don't look so worried about me, Rook. Just had some… Annoying little _shits_ to track down was all. I'm fine, I'm planning on catching some sleep right after this. So cut the concerned face, yeah?"

"...Acknowledged." He said after a second, grimacing and turning to lay his head down and close his eyes. He could _feel_ his face, so he knew it hadn't been that obvious or bad, but… He missed his helmet, it was so much more comfortable. On that note, he asked, "What is the status of my armor?"

"Hole in the chest, tears in the undersuit, and one _fucked up_ helmet." Shepard summarised quickly, ticking off each item with a long, thin finger as she went. "Got Vega and Garrus workin' on getting it repaired, don't worry about it at all. You _and_ it will be patched up soon enough, don't worry. Speaking of, Chakwas?"

"One and a half months at Huerta Memorial, _preferably._ " She gave the ODST a sour look and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and sighing. "But _you_ are a stubborn ass, so I would wager you stage an escape attempt inside three weeks of our arrival."

"I need a private word with him, so could you go and arrange the medical transfer for me? Just some paperwork, far as I know." She drummed her fingers on her armored thighs and smiled toothily at the doctor. Chakwas, after a few seconds of an attempted stare down, finally sighed, rolled her eyes, and turned to leave. Once the old doctor had gone, the smile vanished and Shepard rounded on the wounded Trooper. "Now, Rook, please. What did I say about _dying_ out there?"

"I didn't die."

"Not for lack of trying, John!" She snapped back leaning her elbow on her armored knee and pinching the bridge of her nose. For a few seconds, she simply sat like that, in complete silence and without anything to tell the wounded Trooper what she was thinking. Whatever it was had her tense, though, he could tell from her slouched but stiff shoulders and the way she squeezed her eyes shut.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be angry." She finally said, smiling thinly and looking at him again, this time seeming to… Relax a bit. "I 'mama bear' a bit too much over my men, you know? And I don't like sending _anyone_ on missions like that, dangerous enough to just _be_ a suicide attempt… But, I mean, I rushed ahead of a Krogan charging line, _into_ Reaper lines with Wrex and, like… Three Krogan in an old truck to get to you, so I guess I don't get to talk about suicide attempts."

"Fair." So that's how she'd gotten to him so fast… A stupid move, to be sure, but without the Reaper itself around to control the tactics of the Reaper forces directly on the ground, they'd fall out of formation quickly enough. "How'd the battle at large go? I suffered delays in calling Kalros, so-"

"None of that, John, you did _just_ fine. No one expected a _damn_ thing more from you, and on the ground, the Krogan don't have a bad word to say about you. They're throwin' parties and fighting the Reapers." He nodded acceptingly and she, once more, relaxed again beside him and went on. "Battle went fine. Krogan charged from every side, suffered _bad_ for it, but they knew they would… Wrex and I lead a lance of Tomkahs to assault the Shroud and temple both, lost most of _those_ as well, but we made it. Everything's fine, now."

"And the Cure?" He knew the answer, deep down, but he needed to hear it to make it real. So much cost had been paid… He needed to _know_. "Did it work?"

"Tests are running now, but the Shroud dispersed properly before the sabotage the damn STG put in brought the machine down. Dispersal covered seventy percent of the planet, and the Cure proper will be confined to Krogan who were _here_ , but…" She shrugged and her smiled turned toothy and wide, head cocked to the side in that bright, sprightly way she did sometimes. Like a red-haired pixie, from movies he'd watched back home when he was younger, if an armored and battle-forged one. "The Cure was dispersed, and even the Krogan who _didn't_ get one will fight for us now that we got it through for them."

"Especially given we sided against the Salarians to do it. Along with the Turians." An old set of grudges, but one that was useful to rally the Krogan people.

"Yeah. The Turians are in on that particular feud, too, but…" She shrugged simply, "The Turians have been fighting and dying for the Krogan. And the Salarians have been the ones trying to stick shit in the wheels, so the animosity is _mostly_ dead towards them. What I understand, the _Turians_ have actually been invited to a couple of the tribe's celebrations."

"Understood." Then relations were good. Which was… Good. "I'm glad the plans succeeded, Ma'am."

"Yeah, but that's… Not really, you know, why I'm _here_." She said simply, scotting the chair closer to the head of the bed a bit and crossing a leg over her knee comfortably. "First, I wanted to say I am proud of you, John. As a crewmate and a team member, you've gone above and beyond the call of duty in the war against the Reaper threat. So, I've approved with Hackett… I'm promoting you to Lieutenant Commander, in service aboard the Normandy, as I need an officer directly under me to coordinate mission operations."

"Oh…" That was a skip of rank if he'd ever seen one, but there was merit to it. She did need a second officer on the ground, to lead other teams with actual authority rather than _granted_ authority. Straightening, he nodded curtly and added in a quiet voice, "Understood, Ma'am. Thank you."

"Anyone insane enough to drop in a metal pod _under_ a Reaper Destroyer, and bad ass enough to make it work, deserves the rank. Plus," she smiled apologetically and shrugged, "I need a new officer to take the role for provisional reasons. And with the war on, casualties are too high on frontline vessels to spare me a second."

"I understand." He nodded, adjusting himself on the bed and trying to sit up more until Shepard glared at him gently. Laying flat once more, he added in a firm voice, "I'll do my best to fulfill my duties as needed, Ma'am."

"I know you will, even if it kills you. Just the kind of man you are, end of the day." She shrugged like it didn't matter, but he heard a touch of frustration and admiration in her tone as she said it. Like she admired his selfless determination and hated it at the same time, somehow. "You're also getting two medals. One for being grievously wounded in combat and the other for duties exceeding the bounds of expected function. Medal of combat honors and the purple heart."

"Understood."

"Oh, remind me to show you my collection sometime." She added with that bright smile of hers, grinning ear to ear. "They told me I'm not allowed to have more than one Combat Honor medal, and that thirty was the limit of Valorous Wound Suffrage I was allowed, too. I have 'em in a case in my room."

"If you want me to." He shrugged and spoke quietly, and she rolled her eyes knowingly.

"There won't be any ceremonies for it, or your promotion, with the war on. No time for officers to be handing out medals until after it's all said and done, according to Hackett." Shepard assured him, the ODST stiffening at having been so easily caught out but nodding gratefully regardless after a second. "The clans are also hosting a formal celebration in a couple of days. Hackett is ordering us both to attend, as Alliance representatives. Apparently, we're getting adopted."

"What?" That was… An unexpected thing to hear, to say the least. "What do you mean, adopted?"

"The clans are adopting us as honorary Krogans, and members of their clan. Typically, Krogan young are put through a sort of trial by fire to test them, and the same applies to adopted people. But _I_ already did it a year or so back, with a Krogan named Grunt. And _you_ ," she said, leaning forward to poke his leg meaningfully, "dove between a Reaper's legs, summoned a Krogan _deity_ figure, and then killed the Reaper with it. Urdnot is getting me, since I did less than you, but _you_?"

She laughed, shaking her head and leaning back in her chair, "Clans are _squabbling_ over who gets to tag you with their name. Whichever one does, they get a _lot_ of prestige. You know they have nicknames for you now?" He shook his head and she started naming them, "Kalros-Caller, Sand-Swimmer, Reaperphage, Reaper's Bane… There's a lot of 'em."

"That's ridiculous… All I did was hit a couple buttons." And get smacked around a hell of a lot, shot up a little bit, and then fall into the sand below the temple. _Nothing_ that should reasonably merit getting _fought over_ and _nicknamed_ like that.

"Krogan are a warlike race, so a badass move like yours… Kinda goes further than otherwise." She shrugged, standing and yawning theatrically as she did. "I'm going to get some _very_ deserved rest, John. You should, too. I'll let you know when you have to get suited up to head down to Tuchanka again."

"Understood." For once, he actually wanted some rest. It had been a while since he'd been so hurt, and he looked forward to good rest and getting back into the fight soon.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"You look great, so stop fussing with your collar." She assured him for the third time, the ODST grunting unsurely and adjusting the Alliance uniform she'd made him wear. The uniform was the same she wore, with his two shining medals attached to the left breast of it like Shepard's _ten_ medals. "Your medals are turned around though, got 'em in the wrong order."

"I didn't know." He grunted simply, the slightly taller woman stepping in front of him nd leaning down, swapping the medals on his chest quickly.

"You're career infantry, er, sort of. Makes sense you wouldn't know officer uniform rules. So don't stress it, you won't wear it a hell of a lot, and I'll spot check for ya." She glanced up at him to catch the nod she knew she'd get and returned the gesture, then straightened and reached up to adjust his beret _slightly_ to the right. "Beret goes off-center just a scratch, too. Dunno why, though. Just how it goes."

"I understand." Uniforms were weird like that, sometimes, he knew. "Thank you for the help, Ma'am."

"Well, I mean, the Krogan won't be able to tell, probably. And if they can, they won't give a _fuck_ about it, but… Pays to look the part, right?" He didn't answer, and the woman stepped back, leaning against the shuttle in the center of the bay to give him another once over. "There, all spiffed up. How's the leg?"

"It's sufficient, Commander." He glanced down at the heavy, segmented cast around his leg as he spoke and grunted.

Ceramic, tubing and hydraulic mechanics allowed it to move, and held the weight for him so the damaged muscles didn't need to do anything. His gait was a but altered, though, since he wasn't supposed to lift the leg off the floor. Instead, he had to drag it along the floor, sliding along a ceramic plate on the bottom of the boot. It _looked_ ridiculous, the walk and the brace both, but it let him walk well enough and that's all that he cared about.

"Best we could rig up, just… Bear with it, okay? For today." He nodded and she sighed, seeming tired and somehow uncomfortable in the uniform. Why, he wasn't sure, but she seemed to not like wearing it. After a moment's thought, he dismissed it and listened to the woman ramble, "Victus made it, actually. Said it was the least he could do, designing it, since you did so much to save his planet with the Krogan support. And everyone else was busy, so… Kinda weird for you to have the damn Primarch working on so much stuff for you."

"A bit." He nodded honestly, the woman snorting in amusement at something he must have missed.

"You're banged up, so you get to be flippant and short for a bit. Don't get used to it though, Rook." He nodded and she sighed, smirking at himi and then looking past him at something. Turning, he saw Cortez approaching, and Shepard spoke, "Time to roll out already, eh?"

"Yes, Ma'am, everything's taken care of and it's coming on time you get down there and meet the High Warlord and his new Warlord Council." The dark skinned man waved a hand at the shuttle and smiled warmly. "So if you guys are ready… Hop on, we'll get down to your party."

"Well," Shepard grinned, holding out an arm and cocking her head playfully at him, "Shall you escort me to the ball, kind sir?"

Sighing, he accepted the subtle offer of a supporting arm and leaned on her, letting the woman support some of his weight on his wounded side. His pride wasn't above a shoulder to lean on when he was wounded, after all, _that_ had gotten beaten out by his sergeant in training. So he let her help him into the shuttle and ease him into a seat, and nodded when she checked to make sure he was comfortable enough. He wasn't really comfortable, the starched, pressed uniform needing him to sit up straighter than his ribs liked, but he nodded regardless.

And as always, he saw on her face she knew his bullshit, but she didn't say anything on it. Instead, she called out, "Good to go, Cortez." In a quieter tone, and with a sigh, she added, "Let's get this over with…"

He loved Wrex, but he couldn't agree more.

"Then we can get you to the Citadel, so you can lay up until you get all healed up." Shepard grinned when he scowled at her, and he growled. The woman just laughed brightly at his frustrated growl, shaking her head as the shuttle lifted and turned in the simulated gravity environment of the ship.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **And now Tuchanka is dooooone entirely. That doesn't mean we're done with Wrex or the Krogan, but we are done with Tuchanka itself. The next arc is the Council Arc, with the Citadel, Cerberus and the Salarian Union all taking front stage. Hope you've enjoyed the Tuchanka arc, and hope you enjoy the Council Arc.**_

 _ **Cheers~!**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Nlong :**_

 **I'm glad you're enjoying the story, friend-o. But yeah, gunfights are an entirely new thing for me, which is why so many chapters are so** _ **short**_ **. Because the fights in them were just so ridiculously hard to write, for me.**

 **I am a quick learner, though, and like to believe I am improving quickly.**

 _ **Trife :**_

 **Nope, the Salarians are important to the next arc for that exact reason.**

 _ **Deadly Bacon 50 :**_

 **Could be. I'm letting it evolve organically as I write. The story ending for both characters are already decided, but the in-betweens… I'm leaving that open to decide itself. I would note, though, that characters can have intimate moments as these two do and not get together.**

 **So is kinda up to the readers and natural story evolution.**

 _ **Zeus 501 :**_

 **A SOIEV drop pod is armored, an escape pod isn't. They planned and needed to use explosive charges to clear out the area for him to disembark. The SSV Normandy also uses a different style of escape pod, one that is less suited for crashing down like that. It would have also been a waste of a usable life pod since** _ **it**_ **could house people ejecting from the Normandy going down, but the SOIEV couldn't.**

 _ **Guest :**_

 **Salarians are good at two things - Spying and Assassinations.**

 **In the game, the Salarians outright know Shepard's every move, down to the point of trying to contact her to sabotage the Shroud and the Cure. It's perfectly reasonable to accept Salarians could infiltrate Turians and Krogan lines, or tap communications, and get access to the plans. Especially with** _ **Victus**_ **calling out for reinforcements and sharing the plan with his forces for coordination.**

 **It also wasn't a matter of not being** _ **able**_ **to get there at all. It was a matter of it being hard which is also ripped from the game. In-game, she has to avance for a couple** _ **miles**_ **through Reaper infested and defended ruins, fighting her way there while Krogan spend hours elsewhere fighting. Here, the plan to drop in saves time, so the Krogan need to hold for a shorter amount of time. Instead, Shepard and Wrex - along with other Warlords - planned to blitz into combat to support John. Look up Rommel's blitz maneuvers and you'll get an idea of how this works.**

 **The only people that get there are a single Tomkah. The Salarian is sniping from a** _ **long**_ **way off. And his wounds weren't severe enough to kill him right away, he'd have bled out for a few minutes at least. And with a blitz maneuver, support got to him before that and applied Medi-Gel.**

 **Also, in the game, Kalros kills the Reaper in under two minutes.**


	17. Chapter 17

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 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Huerta Memorial Hospital was something wholly different from the wayward warrior's expectations of a hospital, even in the context of his unintentional dimensional tourism and everything it had shown him.

For one, it was smaller than he'd expected, and its staffing was as well. Only a dozen doctors, and half a century of support staff to help them. Thirty of the hundred feet of the complex was taken up by a lounge and welcoming area, for patient visitation and therapy sessions for the less critically injured patients as well as information processing. The next twenty feet consisted of a long, glass-walled passageway that divided a laboratory area, where some of the doctors conducted tests and studies. Elevators in the furthest back led up, out of Huerta Memorial proper and into Huerta _Medical_ , which he hadn't been to but had been told was a general treatment facility for more normal cases, nestled higher up until it reached the sky walkway spanning between the two curves of the arm of the Citadel it had been built on.

It was the third, furthest back and just before the elevator where the inpatient wing and examination rooms were nestled in, where he was forced to spend his time.

Outside his door, whenever it opened, he could see the two soldiers flanking the entrance. One was a Turian in sleek black armor with a dull silver Phaeston across his chest, angry red lines highlighting the armor's edges and contours and painted across his face. The other was a Krogan in new looking blue armor, sent on behalf of his adopted clan, Kralt. The armor, he knew, was brand new, bought by Kralt and Urdnot both along with the new Mattock heavy rifle the scarred, old warrior held.

"Does their presence bother you?" His guest asked, voice flanging the way it always did while deft fingers sliced an apple on the little tray over his bed that hospital beds always had. "They are only here for your protection, you know. It's been but two weeks and change since the Salarian Union attempted to assassinate you, after all."

"They should be out there fighting the Reapers." Or Cerberus, if the Union if _that_ came to actual war instead of 'talks' as Shepard kept calling the _numerous_ Council meetings and the inquiry. "I'm in a secure location, with security forces already here in case of attack. My window even has a kinetic barrier generator."

"Indeed. Like all the other first floor, VIP rooms, yours came equipped." The Drell smiled pleasantly then, and turned to look at the furthest corner by the window, where a _second_ kinetic barrier generator had been set up. Returning his eyes to the apple he was slowly, methodically peeling and slicing into small pieces, he went on, "You have had a profound effect on the galaxy, John. And many have a vested interest in protecting you, now. Killing you as well, in some cases. Also, a profound effect on Extranet news ratings. I believe the most popular is 'Humans once again proving that normal laws of physics don't work on them'. "

"Hm." He didn't understand it, really. All he'd done was what he could to get the job done, and that had never been a warrant for so much then.

"Was your world so different from ours, in that respect?" The Drell asked, as though the reptilian xeno had read his very thoughts.

"Yes." He answered quietly, the alien's dark eyes turning to him in a silent ask for more, but a promise no to press it if he didn't decide to go on. Respectful, reserved, even when the ODST knew he wanted to know something. "I would have been commended, issued medical assistance as needed to speed my recovery process, and then been redeployed without more ceremony than strictly needed."

"Because of the war your people were being forced to prosecute, I assume?" He nodded and the Drell hummed, holding out a peeled slice of apple for him. He took it, putting the off-sweet thing in his mouth and, satisfied he was eating like he needed to, the Drell went on. "What you did involved three of the main political species in this galaxy directly, and the Krogan as well who are now seemingly destined to be integral to the war against the Reapers. Precautions must be taken."

Precautions like the two soldiers standing by outside, a sign of 'trust and unity between the two species' as Shepard had put it when they'd arrived and she'd had to explain, smiling awkwardly all the while. Not to mention the shield generator being doubled up on, and the Drell assassin himself. A favor to the commander, he'd explained when he first started coming bay to keep him company and add an extra layer of protection.

The head of the security detail Shepard had coordinated and set up for him, since he knew the hospital and surrounding area better than the Krogan Warguard or the Turian security officer she'd brought in to do it. The former was from 'his clan's' warlord's personal guard, and the other was a soldier from Primarch Victus' own protection unit.

"I did what I had to do." He responded simply, turning away from the alien to look out, on the Citadel. It was a beautiful sight, to him. Shining and megalithic, full of happy people living easier lives than any his people could have reasonably hoped for. They had no idea what the Reapers would do if they came here… "Just my duty. Only my duty."

"Are you referring to your fight against the Reapers, and in aid of the Krogan, or something to do with the Citadel itself? Or, perhaps, to something in your past?" The alien asked, the wounded trooper just shrugging silently in answer. Humming in amusement, or what the soldier assumed to be, the alien held out another piece for him. "Shepard said that you had changed, somewhat, over the course of the Tuchankan campaign. Did you know that?"

"No." At least, he didn't know she'd said it to _him_. Being briefed on who he was came in tandem with how he'd operate and what he could do, if something happened, so he knew she'd had to explain to him about his past.

"According to her, you speak more often. Let yourself enjoy things more than you did before." The alien explained, the ODST turning to look at the pleasantly smiling xeno beside him. Distantly, he wondered how many others had seen that serene face, smiling pleasantly down on them in the night, or across a room in a party. "

And how many that would be the last thing they saw, he had no idea.

"I try." He finally said, "Or, I've been trying, at least."

"Why?"

"Why do you ask?" He asked, sounding, and frankly feeling, defensive at the question.

"I want to help you, John. If I am, somehow, able to do so. And in you, I see someone like me. Who labors against their guilt and pain to bring light to the world at large." The alien answered, holding out another apple slice for him. He waited until the soldier took it, then plucked one for himself and went on, not allowing the ODST to respond. "Do you know what I did, before I was diagnosed with Kepral's Syndrome? When I served the priests that the Hanar use for their charity to my people?"

"You were an assassin." To say the very least, he was, though the ODST knew from rumors and facts both about ONI that no one was just an assassin. What else he had done, he wouldn't ask about, even if he had some ideas about it.

Wasn't his business.

"Indeed. I served the priests, as many Drell do. But unlike them I didn't clean, or grow food, or serve rites. Instead, I eliminated… Problems for them." What kind was fairly clear to the soldier, laying in bed and fighting to ignore the itch in his shoulder from his mostly healed wound. "I did so for… Many years. I killed many innocent people, and many guilty people. I caused much pain in this galaxy."

"And?" He prodded gently, not pushing the Drell for answers. Only prompting him for whatever he'd give freely. At least now that he'd piqued his curiosity, the rabid beast that it usually was ever since his training created it.

"And now, I seek to assuage it wherever I can." The Drell continued, voice quiet and soft. Softer than he normally spoke, black eyes flicking to meet his own. "It is why I volunteered to undergo the war against the Collectors gratis, among other things I did to… Attempt to atone, for what I have done. What I was made to be, by circumstances outside of my control. A sentiment I wager you, with the war you fought in your world and fight now, understand quite clearly."

And he did, after a moment of thought. The war against the Covenant was fought by every Human, in one way or another, in his galaxy. Whether as a Marine, fighting the Covenant for every inch of dirt and space Human flags flew over, or as a factory worker. Pulling ten or even twelve hour shifts manufacturing weaponry, armor, bullets, medical equipment and whatever else the war effort could possibly need. Now here was beginning to become the same, he could see the bevy of recruitment signs whenever he left Huerta. Begging, pleading, for fighters, support staff, whatever they were willing and able to do to help stave off the Reapers slaughtering them all en mass.

He wondered when the criminal conscriptions and, later to be sure but eventual nonetheless, normal conscription would follow.

"And why you're trying to help me." He grunted, turning to look back out on the Citadel, watching the buzz of cars flitting through its massive honeycomb, dipping up and down to destinations in every direction. "Shepard asked you to, too."

"She did." His reflection in the window nodded, a serene smile plastered across his face as always. "As part of our conversation about your point of origin, matter of fact. She didn't need to, though. I would have been willing to spend time with your regardless of her asking me to."

"I'll be leaving soon."

"A week from now, to my knowledge." The Drell agree, smiling pleasantly all the while. "I must confess to no small amount of envy for you, regarding that."

"You want to be out there too." He could tell. The Drell usually wore his own outfit, leather amd padded cloth, instead of the hospital whites and starched blues he and the other patients wore. "You're dying any way, regardless of what you do. Why not go out, fight the Reapers, die doing something?"

"I… Will confess that I have, time and again, considered it." The alien admitted after a moment, serene smile finally slipping into a frown. The soldier turned to him in surprise, the Drell was a _beacon_ of serenity that never faltered. But, with a small shake of his head, the vision of cool serenity was back and he went on, "I cannot, though. I swore to my only son that I would not go looking for battle any longer. I had hoped to pass before the Reapers' coming, perhaps selfishly."

"I understand." He'd done his fighting, and wanted to retire and pass in peace. It was an understandable desire, in every respect, to be done after all that. "I hope you die before the war can ever get to the Citadel."

"What did you… Did you actually…?" Twice the alien blinked before he grunted a short laugh and then smiled widely in a way he hadn't before, "You know, John, it is typically quite rude to wish a speedy _death_ on someone. In most circles, it's actually taken as a bit of an insult, in fact."

"I know." But the Drell knew what he'd meant by it, he was certain. Or else, why laugh and smile the way he had?

"Well, I am grateful for your… Well wishes, John." He nodded, standing and eating the last slice as he did. Behind him, the door opened and a nurse stepped through, the bright, Turian eyes blinking between the two of them unsurely. "I shall head to my exercise class, and you have your therapy to get through as well. I shall be by again tomorrow. Would you like an apple again?"

He nodded and the alien left, padding away without even the scarcest sound. An art so drilled into the alien, he was certain, that he couldn't _not_ do so any longer. The same way his fingers _itched_ to maintain his weapon, and his skin _crawled_ to be inside his armor again. Not doing it, in both their cases, was an effort and an annoyance in every way.

Enough to, eventually, become impossible.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

" _One more day."_ He thought, leaning against the dividing wall in the patient lounge, automatic fire raking the room. All around the room, chairs had been thrown over as people fled, joined on their sides and backs by patients, visitors and staff either too slow or too unlucky to escape the initial attack. " _One more day, and I'd have my armor and my weaponry."_

His Turian bodyguard was on his right, kneeling behind the long desk and occasionally poking out, sending bursts of needle accurate fire slamming into Troopers and Officers as they tried to lean around and fire back, or cross to the safer left side. Where his Krogan bodyguard couldn't get them, leaning at the front corner of the wall and sending heavy Mattock rounds at an angle that could get at anyone on the right side of the door. And he had a Phalanx, gifted to him by the Turian so he could defend himself, sending single, precision rounds down and into whatever he could.

"They'll be planning something." Thane said from the spot beside him, loud enough he could hear and no louder, a Carnifex in his hands from the Krogan. "Some way to get around our defense. Cerberus doesn't mind losing men, but they'd have left if they weren't intending to take the hospital."

"Hm. Acknowledged." He nodded after a second, leaning out slightly to peer at the broken door, both blown off their hinges and laying in the floor of the lounge area.

A Trooper stepped into the open, Harrier spraying rounds across the room for three solid seconds before a long Phaeston burst hit his chest, bucking and glancing off heavy armor, and a Mattock round caught him under his neck. It _popped_ out the back of his neck, spraying red along the wall and floor behind the man in long tendrils while his head wobbled loosely, and then he fell back in a limp mass. Another soldier took his place at the corner, this one wielding a massive shield he used to protect himself while his other hand poked out a blocking looking handgun and send showers of buckshot flying towards them.

"Pull!" Thane warned, stepping around the unarmored ODST and pulling his off arm back, the Turian soldier spraying fire at the opposite corner when Cerberus Troopers tried to suppress his Biotics. The little blue orb sailed low, over the ground, and then hit the shield with a muted _thump_ as the Mass Effect yanked it to the side.

Two solid rounds punched into the staggering man's helmet, each jerking his head right and then left, and he fell back.

"Garulk! Ammo check!" The ODST bellowed out over the din of fire and distant, muted explosions.

"Ten thermals left, and grenade going out!" The Krogan shouted back, more professional than he'd ever expected of a Krogan. A little black dot sailed through the air and he saw it smack the far wall outside the hospital and bounce away to the right, out of sight. "Detonating!"

The explosion came a second later, as two Cerberus soldiers scrambled across the open doorway. Shrapnel ripped through the air and into their backs, as well as sending a third, dead, one of their fellows trundling across the floor. One fell and didn't move, blood pooling out of a hundred holes all along his back, legs and arms. The other tried to stand, one leg ruined and one arm matching it, and a belt of rounds from Ciranus sent him sprawling onto his back before he made it anywhere.

"Nine here." Ciranus called out before he could ask, slamming a clean one home and tossing the hissing, spent one away. It rolled, sputtering and glowing angrily, across the floor and the Turian added, as an afterthought, "And two grenades as well, since it seems we're using those."

"Movement." The Krogan called in warning, as the _next_ Cerberus assault made itself known.

Moving in a wave, their rounds glancing off heavily armored shields, a dozen Guardian-class Cerberus soldiers moved into a phalanx formation just on the other side of the door. He could see the occasional red lights from the helmeted men and women, peeking out through the slots in the shield they used to see, but they ducked back down before Thane or Garulk could draw a line on them, try for lucky shots through the gaps.

"I can see movement. Shifting, behind the Guardians. They're planning something, but what it could be is the question." Thane murmured, black orbs looking to him with the words. "And I don't think they intend to just maintain formation there, either."

The ODST followed his nod, leaning further out than he'd dared to for several minutes yet, as much to get a better view as to see if they'd try and shoot at him. None bothered to, probably for fear of reprisals breaking their formation, and the extra view allowed him to see several bodies shifting around behind the wall of armored shields. Troopers, he saw when one stood a bit too tall and a short burst of automatic Phaeston fire tore through his helmet, a sign of the Turian special operations soldier's tender affections.

And those hawkish, Turian eyes, of course. Those couldn't ever be discounted when it came to Turians. In the back of his mind, in the way a distracted mind wandered dumbly due to the adrenaline coursing through his brain, he wondered if thinking like that would be considered _pragmatism_ or _racism_. He didn't care either way, really, and wouldn't be able to explain the thought if anyone somehow knew of it and bothered to ask.

But they didn't see the shimmer in the air over the shield line, there for a moment and suddenly gone. Turians hadn't fought for years against a military that made common use of active camouflage assault units, only identifiable when they ended a man's life. They hadn't had that paranoia ingrained in them, the kind that had a soldier hesitating and pointing his rifle at anything that looked _mildly_ odd around them.

"Active camo." He shouted, knowing it when he saw it, his Phalanx barking a round at one of the lithe shapes that had been slowly, meticulously crawling along the floor. The round struck and tore through the woman's shoulder, sending her sprawling with an electrified, warbling shout of pain. "Look for shimmers in the air. Watch for biotics. Garulk, you have-"

"Raagh!" He saw the fist that tore through the wall where the Krogan had taken cover a second before the camouflage flicked, giving way to the crumpled, smeared form of the Human woman that had tried to attack him. An invisible something smacked into the Cerberus shieldline, rolling across it and smearing brought blood along the metal as the woman flickered into visibility, and the Krogan roared, "Come out where we can see you, you invisible cowards!"

A long bursts for Cirunas tore into the bleeding, shocked woman John had shot, tearing open her chest and sending her sprawling over the ruined, bullet riddled lounge chairs on the right side of the room. The last Phantom charged them, hand raised to ward off the bullets flying towards her, deflecting them to either side instead of stopping them outright. In her other hand her sword glinted light as she leapt onto the long desk and ran towards him directly, Cirunas standing and shoving him back with one hand, other raising his Phaeston and spraying wild fire at the woman.

The rounds did nothing and she lunged, sword singing through the air for the Turian's helmet while the ODST scrambled back, fighting to recover from the shove and bring his gun to bear. Too slow to save the man, he knew, and too low power to do anything even if he _could_ get his little laser sight to line up on her chest.

Thane, though, was more than fast enough, sending a relatively gentle Biotic shove into the Turian and the ODST both, tossing them safely behind the wall and out of the line of fire from the Troopers who rose to support their fellows. With his Carnifex, he smashed her arm aside and spun on one heel, other singing through the air and forcing her to jump, cartwheeling over his head to evade.

She landed on Thane's other side, the Drell turning and barking a round at her she deflected easily enough. Turning her head, red eyes locked onto his blue, and she lunged at him with her sword pulled back in a thrust aimed for his heart. Another Biotic attack caught her, though, this time wreathed around Thane's fist, and hurled her into the hallway that led into the research area. The Drell was swift to capitalize, and ruthless in doing so, grabbing each of her wrists and pinning them overhead, staring into her face in an almost loving, pitying way.

Then _driving_ a scalpel through both wrists and into the wall beyond, drawing a pained, warbling scream from her that the Drell mercifully cut off with a Biotic infused fist that crushed her throat. She hacked wetly, choking, and the Drell yanked the blade free, cradling the woman and laying her gingerly on the floor. Weakly, she tried to raise her hands towards the watching Human, Cirunas laying down fire on the Cerberus soldiers, but Thane pinned it gently down with his own hand.

Kneeling, the Drell murmured words he barely heard, somehow carried over the din of fighting around him, "Kalahira, Mistress of Inscrutable Depths, I ask forgiveness. Forgiveness for this one's sins, committed against her will in a body taken by the will of another."

One hand peppering occasional hawkish shots towards the battle line, the other held the woman's ruined hand and, somehow, she didn't summon her Biotics against him. Instead, she passed in peace, choking one last breath and going still. That hand then took her sword, scattered in his attack on her, and lifted it in his dominant hand as he rose in safety, covered by the wall and Cirunas' suppressing fire.

Again, he prayed while the Human soldier watched, eyes trapped as though mesmerized by something. "Amonkira, guide this one's blade to the hearts of his foes. Kalahira, I beg that you accept their souls as they depart their shells, and take them across your great sea. They are beset by sin not of their own making, and deserve cleansing they can no longer seek on their own."

Then the man's eyes open, black depths meeting his. Then, he smiled, thin and solemn, and simply said, "Prayers for the wicked must never be neglected, even in the midst of battle. Now, pardon me, but I must see to our guests. Their suffering is due for the gentlest end I might manage. With your leave, of course, as my… Contractor, by proxy or not."

"Go." He nodded, the Drell returning the gesture and moving.

Like liquid, the alien slipped around the corner of the desk, sending another Pull towards the chieldline, yanking the centerman's shield free. Two rounds punched by before the metal had even cleared, the alien's straight arm sending one apiece into the fronts of each helmet. Before they'd even fallen he dove, spinning on one shoulder fire raked through the air around him and sparked off his Barrier, before a foot _slammed_ into an overturned table, wreathing it in Biotics and sending it floating into the air. He stood behind it to reload, Biotic power turning the simple wood and steel into an insurmountable shield.

Then he was moving again, a heavy pistol round shearing through a Guradian's knee as they tried to adjust their formation. The Human toppled to the side, screaming for a moment before a second round punched through his throat. A long burst of Phaeston fire tore through the chest of the Trooper behind him, but Thane was moving on regardless, leaping over lines of fire scything towards him, turning in the air and _hurling_ the sword with biotic power wreathed around it.

It hit the next man to the right's shield and _screeched_ through, into the man beyond and then the man behind _him_ , carrying both to the wall beyond and pinning them there. A grenade skittered across the floor, barely a foot in front of the now clearly desperate Cerberus line, and a scaly foot batted it back. The explosion didn't pierce the two shields remaining on the right, but the shrapnel _did_ punch into the closest Trooper and Guardian on the left, both sagging, dead and bleeding while those on the right stumbled back under the force and tried to recover. They'd never get the chance, though.

The Drell was among them now, Carnifex snapping out to press against necks and spray arterial red along the walls, other grabbing wrists and wrenching arms with Biotic power. Two Troopers on the left abandoned the long since broken formation, standing fully and turning to spray rounds into the wild melee. Most bit into their unshielded fellows, though he saw sparks of Biotic power where they met their mark, before his Phalanx punched a hole in one's head and Ciruas _carved_ through the other's and into the wall beyond.

With an eager roar, Garulk joined the Drell, slamming into the last two Guardian's shields and wrenching one aside, using it like a cudgel to _crush_ the other. The last Trooper tried to run, then, heavy Mattock rounds tearing into his back before he'd even turned. The Drell turned, hurling Biotics out into the halls where the ODST couldn't see before his Carnifex joined him, Garulk firing into the unknown on the left, and John stood clear of his cover.

"Cirunas, we're moving to support." He snapped sharply, shoving a new thermal clip into his Phalanx. "I have the right, you take the left. Confirm?"

"Confirmed, supporting left side, Sir." The Turian snapped sharply, the Human grimacing at the absolute obedience of the technically higher ranking alien. Without another word, they moved towards the door to finish the fight.

If only for the moment.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

In the quiet that came after, nurses, doctors, and soldiers interned in the complex above who could move enough to help descended. Under the ODST's command, all the chairs were piled neatly in a small curve, from the reception desk around to the other side of the hallway leading back into the research area. About five feet tall, it would serve wall enough for cover, the Guardian shields leaned on the other side to prevent rounds punching through into the defenders.

"You have PTSD symptomology, according to Doctor Michel, Ma'am." He said simply to the Asari woman, reaching out to lay a hand on the Maiden's shoulder while the Drell assassin sat on a chair, resting and watching him. "If you want to help, use your Biotics to provide barriers for the scavenging teams."

"But-"

"You'll save as many lives covering our ammo policing and ferrying the wounded back, out of the fight, as you will with a gun on my barricade." He cut in simply, already hating the 'privileges' of command. Turning, he waved over an exhausted, trembling Human nurse, the woman pushing the trolley she brought with her as much as leaning on it. Taking a bottle of water, he spoke to her now, "I need you to find the doctor in charge of you all and assign Aeian here," he waved a hand at the small Asari, "to support duty."

"Y-Yes, Sir." She nodded, walking on shaky legs to lay a hand on the suddenly more anxious looking Asari. The Human smiled, then, and withdrew her hand, "I-I know what happened on your mission. A-And I know how you feel, but… But you can help us here. Make up for it."

Silent, the Asari nodded and let the Human lead her back down the hallway, anxious over something but compliant nonetheless. Exhausted, the Trooper collapsed to the floor, leaning against a Cerberus shield and taking a long draught of his water, eyeing one of the swords laid along the barricade for the inevitable last, desperate melee. They'd be cut to pieces, when it came down to that, and he knew it. Thane joined him and he offered it to the alien, who took only a small sip before returning it.

"You are doing well, Lieutenant Commander." The alien finally said, the Human humming a sound that was neither agreement or argument. He was doing his best, and it would have to do. That was all he could hope to do. "This place would have fallen already, were it not for your efforts."

"You could have protected them." He grunted dismissively, taking a ration bar a passing nurse - armed with a Harrier now, with whatever pieces of Cerberus armor could be ripped off the bodies - offered him. "I knew you were a marksman, but that was… Impressive."

"Your skills are not lacking either." The Alien hummed, taking half the bar when the Human held it out, cramming it into his mouth desperately and then eyeing the other piece with reluctant guilt. Biotics used calories, and he'd employed _liberal_ usage of it, so he tore off a moderate bite and handed the rest to him. "Forgive me, but Biotics…"

"I know."

"Thank you." The alien murmured, followed by a quiet prayer over the food and then him eating it. "I regret having to employ my skills again… I'd hoped to end my life in a more peaceful manner than this. Still, I do not regret protecting these innocent souls."

"Hm." Neither did he, really, and with a small spark of guilt he realized he was grateful in a twisted way for this. A chance to fight again, to _do_ rather than lay up and wait. He pushed it aside when he saw a nurse rushing towards them, lugging around a blocky communicator the research scientists had cobbled together for them. Rising he asked quietly, "What is it?"

"C-Sec." The man answered breathlessly, no doubt having run all the way, holding out the wire-covered headset to him. He took it, ordering with a hand for the man to sit down.

"Lieutenant Commander James Doe, Systems Alliance… Military." He didn't know if he was a Marine or a naval staff attendant, he only realized now. Something to ask about later, instead the soldier asking, "Who is this?"

"Commander Armando-Owen Bailey, Citadel Security." The man answered, voice tired but sharp and military regardless. "Did you just say John Doe?"

"Yes." He answered simply, anticipating jokes he had grown used to over the years.

"You're that crazy s.o.b. that jumped out of a ship in a little metal pod, right?" He grunted an answer, surprised at the man not mentioning his name's implications and answering that he was, and the man went on. "Absolutely insane, every last one of you… I'm forwarding a connection to Commander Shepard, your C.O., she's on the Citadel and headed to the Council chambers to try and evac them."

"Where are you?" He asked, putting a pin in the fact that the Council were still on station.

"Headquarters. Shepard helped us take it back, and I'm rallying nearby forces from… Hell, from anyone, really. Got Turians, Asari, Salarians even with the shit going on there, even Krogan soldiers showin' up." The man answered, filling the ODST with tepid hope that so many were rallying. Bodies with guns that could fight. "Where are you? My terminal shows… Huerta? That right?"

"Affirmative." He answered quietly, "I'm defending with my…" He gave his two bodyguards a glance, each watching the door and him both like hawks, and finally answered, "Fireteam. We have nurses arming themselves as support, too, and the upper floors have been evacuated. Most are in the inpatient wing."

"Need support?"

"Please." And he hoped that his desperation was understandable. "I'm arming nurses for combat, we're low on ammo, and we are almost out of food and water."

"I'll do what I can, I promise."

"Tell the Krogan that John Doe-Garl is here and needs help." He ordered simply, not above using his influence over the Krogan to save civilians if it was warranted. Curious, and afraid of the line being monitored, he asked, "How are we speaking? Our communicators are full of static."

"Normandy's QEC, and the Krogan I had heard you himself and stormed off. I hear 'em shouting and roarin' right now, so you either have help or a mob comin'." The Commander answered simply, followed quickly by, "Handing you off to Shepard, I have my own shit to handle. Stay solid out there, Huerta."

"Understood." He said, seizing the few seconds he had before Shepard would join the line to turn and shout back, "C-Sec Headquarters is ours, and support is being sent to relieve us. _Krogan_ support, too."

The cheers that came were like a roar, and he couldn't help but smile at them. Their first good news in an hour, now, since the fighting had started.

"John is that you?" He heard the woman's voice come over the line, turning away and smiling thinly at the familiar tone.

"Yes. I'm at Huerta, holding a defensive-"

"I know you're holding a defensive line, you stubborn, suicidal, _injured_ jackass. And the only reason I'm not going to kick your ass is because I'm going to be pinning another medal to it for this, and you're basically healed anyways." He knew her anger wasn't directed at him, moreso at the Cerberus attack that had forced him into fighting earlier than planned. He heard her take a deep breath, forcing the calm of combat operations down over her, and she asked, "Krogan support is on the way, do you need me to send any extra?"

"Negative, Ma'am." The Council took priority, they both knew that, and they both knew that if he did ask for it she'd not be able to come herself. Only ask others for more from places that couldn't spare it. "Support is needed elsewhere more, and this seems a secondary or tertiary target."

"I understand." She sighed, sounding regretful as she asked, "Can you _offer_ any?"

"Clarify."

"The Council is mostly safe, but the Salarian one isn't with them." She answered simply, the ODST understanding before she went on what she needed. Thane, next to him, grimaced in the same understanding as him, able to hear the conversation well enough. "You're closer than we are, to where he is, and I need eyes on him as soon as possible. And on the space between him and you, in case he's forced to run."

"I can't-"

"I'm on my way." Thane interrupted, the ODST's eyes snapping to his. The alien smiled politely and contentedly, head bowing to him. "I can make it, and am best suited for this manner of operation."

"Then I will come too."

"You are unarmored and unshielded, and needed here besides." The alien dismissed easily, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms, limbering up. "I have my Biotics and my combat gear here, light enough to pass security. And, as you said," the alien's smile widened slightly, eyes blinking at him, "it is my duty. Only my duty."

"Be careful, Thane." Shepard said quietly, voice laced in odd emotion. Something the ODST couldn't place, but mixed with what he _could_. Pain, regret and anxiety. "Rendezvous at these coordinates, I'm moving out with my team."

She cut the line and Thane turned, taking two ration bars and cramming them into his mouth, then grabbing spare thermal clips and three scalpels, talking as he did so, "You and I are similar, John." He said simply, turning to him and smiling, holding out a leather book to him, "And so I trust you to carry this for me. To my son, should the worst happen."

"I understand." He answered, taking it and bowing his head. He didn't bother with the platitudes of not needing to give it to the young man, he knew the lie that would be. Knew Thane knew it too, and knew that they had no choice. The Salarian Councilor could prevent a war, and neither would allow their personal concerns to outweigh that.

Instead, he said, "Good luck."

Laying a hand on the ODST's shoulder, Thane smiled, eyes closing, "Amonkira, Lord of Hunters, watch over this man as he endeavors to strike at those who strive against him. Arashu, cloak him in your embrace, and protect him so as to allow him to protect those he shields with flesh and blood and bone. And Kalahira, should the worst come to pass, embrace this man as you would your children."

He'd never been one for spirituality but, as the Drell spoke, he allowed his eyes to close and, as though on impulse, whispered an old, odd feeling, 'Amen'.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

An hour later, and the fighting was over, Cerberus forces having been drive off the station or killed entirely. Half an hour after that, he saw Thane again, being wheeled in by doctors, lying on a gurney with his arm laid over a blood-stained chest.

He watched the doctors stitch him up, saw their panic as this man - their savior - begin to wane. His vitals steadily falling, and never climbing, no matter what they did.

He watched the man's son, Kolyat, come to him and clutch his hand and shoulder, shedding tears until the man spoke to him. The boy emerged, looked to him, and he held the book out for him. Then the young Drell returned to his father's side, opened it, and began reading.

He watched the desperate donation of Kolyat's blood, which only stabilised the Drell for a short time before the sun fell. With it, as though precipitated by it, the Citadel descended into the dark, its simulated night-time taking over.

Shepard arrived an hour later, and after she knew he was safe and uninjured beyond the scrapes and bruises of a fight, she joined the two Drell. Her back to his, she couldn't see his face and he couldn't see hers. But he saw her hand grab his, holding it up so she could press the scaly appendage to her forehead, and saw her shoulders shudder the telltale shudder of tears being shed.

Commander Shepard, immortal hero of the Citadel, was _crying_.

Thet steadied, the Drell speaking words he could not hear to her, and she glanced to him. Then she turned, two pairs of black eyes and one set of hard, glassy green looking to him, watching them from outside. Anxious, he turned to leave, but made it no more than two steps before he heard Shepard call out to him, "He wants you to come inside. He… There isn't much time left. Kepral's is taking him."

He hesitated a moment before turning and following her in, looking at the powerful Drell laying in his bed, smiling a pleasant welcome to him. Weak and strained, he began to pray once more, "Kalahira, Mistress of Inscrutable Depths, I ask f-for-" The words died in a wet sounding coughing fit, the ODST taking an unsure step towards him to help and Shepard clutching his right hand like a lifeline.

His son continued, starting over for him, reading from the Drell's personal book as though he'd practiced it, "Kalahira, Mistress of Inscrutable Depths, I ask forgiveness. Kalahira, whose waves wear down stone and sand. Kalahira, was the sins from this one, and set her on the distant shore of the infinite spirit."

He watched as Thane turned away, gazing out at the infinite sea of blackness beyond the Citadel. Saw the stillness overtake him that spoke of the assassin's passing, and knew that both others had to. Shepard's head fell into her hand, other holding the alien's, and Kolyat choked for a moment as he continued, "Kalahira, this one's spirit is pure, but beset by wickedness and contention. Guide this one to where the traveler never tires, the lover never leaves, the hungry never starve. Guide this one, Kalahira, and she will be a companion to you as she was to me."

"Kolyat…" She asked weakly, the alien looking to her and meeting eyes he couldn't see but knew to be red and glassy. "Why the last verse say _she_?"

"The prayer was not for him, Commander." He answered gently, moving to her side of the bed as though he were leaving, laying a hand on her shoulder and smiling down at her, "He has already asked forgiveness for the lives he has taken. His wish was for you."

"Oh, God…" Her voice cracked and the alien stepped by him, nodding back out the door for him to follow.

He did.

"He was your friend, and told me, while I gave blood to him, that he saw of himself so much in you as he did with Shepard." The alien said quietly, grimacing mournfully and adding, "Regretfully, he said, he had not the time to come to know you. And asked me to ask you… Would you allow him, through me, to ask Kalahira to forgive you for your sins?"

Quietly, the ODST nodded, "Please."

The alien closed his eyes and so did John, for reasons he couldn't place. "Kalahira, Mistress of Inscrutable Depths, I ask forgiveness." The Trooper felt a hand on his shoulder and had to fight the urge to look, to reach for a weapon. Kolyat seemed to have anticipated this, waiting until he was certain he was ready and calm to continue, "Kalahira, whose waves wash all of their misdeeds like words on sand, wash this one. Oh, Kalahira, this one's heart is beset by pain and fear, wickedness and contention, anger and sorrow. Guide this one, great Kalahira, to where the warrior never falters, the lover never leaves, the friend never falls, and the blood never flows to paint the sands and water in impure shades."

"Guide this one, Kalahira, into the arms of companions yet lost and happiness yet unknown." He finished, "Guide this one, and make of him a companion for you, oh Great Mistress of the Inscrutable Seas. And wash him, of his sins and paini, so that he might come to you as clean and eased."

Done, he felt the man's hand leave his shoulder and met his eyes, chest feeling… Tight in a way he didn't understand. With a jerk of his head, Kolyat asked, "Would you comfort her, please? I have rites to perform, to those lost under whatever banner flew over them."

He nodded and let the young Drell priest leave, taking a deep breath and looking to the ceiling, blinking twice and swallowing the pain he felt as he always had. Nodding finally, he stepped to the door and in, Shepard turning to look at him with puffy cheeks and red eyes like he'd never imagined seeing on her.

"First Mordin, on Tuchanka… Now Thane and Ash." She choked, shaking her head and looking around the room for answers, escape, or something to _kill_ to make the pain stop. The way soldiers grieved, or the way she did, he wasn't sure. "John, this is- I can't- I'm not strong enough."

"You are." He assured her, pulling a seat to her side and wrapping a hug around her that she returned too eagerly, augmented body bruising him in her hug. "You are Urdnot Jane Shepard, savior of the Citadel. You're strong enough to get through this and do your duty in ending Cerberus."

Duty… But not only duty, he knew, letting the woman cry.

 _Revenge._

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **So I don't**_ **think** _**I ever named whether it was Kaidan or Ashley who was live. Or, you know,**_ **used** _**to be alive at least. Note going forward, not every solution in this is going to be the best outcome possible.**_

 _ **I also realized early on I made a miiiiiiinor mistake in putting the quiet Rookie in a chapter to mainline with Thane. One is always quiet, the other is serene and quiet, so… Yeah. And I hope the Thane and Rookie relationship made sense and was good for what I was going for.**_

 _ **Had to watch the Thane death scene thrice writing this.**_

 _ **Gonna go cry now, kay? Thanks.**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Maseta :**_

 **Yeah, it's just** _ **writing**_ **a shitstorm that is coherent is… Fun. So I get anxious.**

 **But hey, better anxiety than arrogance.**

 _ **Mordin Fan (Guest) :**_

 **What canon happens in this route. Mordin dies.**

 _ **Kaiya Azure :**_

 **That's a technicality, though you're right. This was adoption outright. Similar, but slightly different.**

 _ **Swimfeared :**_

 **Yes, but the real question in the middle of this** _ **new**_ **shitfest is 'Who in the Union did this, and are they** _ **all**_ **to be punished'?**

 _ **Funkyshnelpu Jr :**_

 **And also when your Commander is in need of a second officer, and you're there.**

 _ **Predator 1701 :**_

 **Genuinely considered name dropping it, never did it though. One of the Krogan warlords' names was initially going to actually be Romm el'Tomkah, though. I scrapped it for the name not fitting conventions right.**

 _ **Kifo Sotri :**_

 **No hobbling, only skill, acrobatics, and DEEP EMOTIONAL TRAUMA.**

 _ **Rookie Fan (Guest) :**_

 **Glad to be so enjoyed~!**


	18. Chapter 18

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_**Official Supporters:**_

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 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Vega swung a hammering blow in from his left, the smaller, lither ODST blocking with his arm and bracing with the other, a hand gripping his forearm for the brief moment his arm shook with the force of the blow. He let the shockwave flow down his arm and into his chest and pivoted, turning on a heel and sliding into the man's guard, using the arm that had braced the defending one to now _lash_ out in a hard jab, straight into the man's sternum. Vega coughed as the air left his lungs and the smaller soldier followed him, turning and punching into the juncture in his arm between his bicep and tricep, sending the arm spasming to the side while the large, hispanic man hissed and rattled off curses in his native tongue.

Sliding closer, he jackhammered blows into the man's stomach until, finally, Vega threw up a hand and grunted, "I give! Maldito infierno, Rook." He coughed, the small man bouncing away on his heels and rolling his shoulder where he'd caught the large man's punch, "You sure you were in hospital?"

"Yes." And he missed it, in a strange way. Missed _Thane_ more like, the daily conversations had been something to look forward to, and he never pushed him.

"Hey, amigo, you okay?" The large man asked, good arm landing on his shoulder softly, keeping distance between the two of them warily. To keep from offending him, he knew without asking. Garrus and Vega both did it. "Zoned out on me, Novato. What's stuck up in your head?"

"Nothing." He lied before he saw the man's brow climb disbelievingly and, knowing that Shepard would come drag it out of him if he didn't, he amended, "Thane. Cerberus. The attack on the Citadel."

"Yeah, guess that would be on your mind… Come on, let's get some water, yeah?" The large man sighed, coughing again before shaking off the spar and turning, leading the smaller man across the engineering bay towards Vega's little, entirely self claimed he was sure, private area.

It was almost a proper room, now, with supply crates stacked high on fours sides, a 'door' facing into the engineering bay. A tarp stretched overhead in a weak facsimile of a roof and, inside, the room was laid out almost like an apartment. A small fridge in the far left corner, a cot opposite it, and a worktable just to the side of the door covered in tools and a disassembled Avenger beside an equally piece meal Predator, the external plating of both _covered_ in scuffs, scrapes and general light damage a service rifle had to sustain.

"You ever hear of a place called Fehl Prime?" The large Marine asked, pitching the man a bottle of chilled water when the Trooper sat on the workbench stool. The ODST shook his head no, almost wondering if it had been rhetorical since he was a stranger in this world, but humoring him regardless. "Little colony, way out there, where it's… Well, not so safe to live. Long story short, me and mine got sent in to stop a Blood Pack raid. Got told to standby, and were there when Collectors showed up aiming to harvest the colony. It… Didn't go so well, you can probably guess."

"What happened?" He was curious, now. Egged on by the man mentioning it, curiosity goaded into him asking even when he knew he shouldn't.

"The Collectors had almost all the colony onboard a ship, and the last bit of my squad, plus a mercenary we captured who was on-side, too. I had information on their ship, defenses, weapons, that sort of stuff." He shrugged, voice low, and finished, "Had to pick between getting the critical information out or… Or them. I picked the info."

"I see."

"Yeah, so… What I mean is, by telling you that, is that I get it. Losing team members, I mean." He shrugged and the ODST blinked at him, the man smiling bitterly and asking him, "Doesn't matter how long you know 'em, you know? Still hurts like a hijo de puta losing your teammates."

"I… It does, yes." Much as he was used to it, the echoing pangs still tugged at him, from time to time. He took a drink of water and, in a low voice, spoke, "I remember my first squad, when I got out of boot with them. Got sent to a farming world, New Ontario, for a combat drop against insurrectionists."

"Since I told you 'bout my mission that went to hell, gonna guess yours didn't do any better?" He nodded at the larger Marine's question and Vega murmured a curse, a small shake of his head all he offered in sympathy. Out of a sort of respect, he figured, and the man asked, "So what happened?"

"Half the squad burnt up on reentry, in the drop." A norm for rookie squads dropping, he knew. They hadn't learned to _feel_ the tremors yet, to pilot themselves freehand like other ODSTs, searching and feeling through the turbulence for the softer patches and veins that weaved together from space to ground. "We landed scattered, spread out over three and a half kilometers of woodland _around_ the objective. Insurrectionist - rebels, terrorists," he added, for Vega's benefit, "Radioed in for support and orders, Command ordered us to assault the base regardless of casualties."

"One squad?" Vega asked, sounding stunned and looking it as well, mouth agape slightly. John nodded and the large soldier spat and sneered, "That's ridiculous… How the fuck are three or four guys, all green as gills, s'posed to take out a base scattered like _that_?"

"That's the job." He shrugged, unsure of what else to say.

"No, that's _suicide_." He nodded at that, and Vega sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose against what he was sure was a headache, or more likely aggravation, building. "I think I can guess the rest of the story…"

"Perhaps." It was fairly obvious, considering he was _alive_ and they- No. He couldn't think about it, shook the memories off as soon as they threatened to surface. Like water he'd been treading, and he knew if he stopped it would swallow him and he'd drown in it. Helpless, alne, drifting in the blackness of space like she had- "Not the time for that…"

"What?" Vega asked, looking confused and making John freeze up, cap to the bottle only half screwed in surprise. He'd spoken out loud, then? That wasn't like him… Again, vega looked him up and down and asked, "Jesus Cristo, hombe, are you okay? You look… Pale."

"I'm fine." He lied, knowing he wasn't and hiding that unsurety in a long drink of the cold water. When he was finished, he shook his head to clear it of the memories, both his and Shepard's, and finished his story, rattling off a mirror of his military report of so long ago, seated in a cold, dark room and looking at a displeased ship captain and his division commander. "We marched to the base and attempted to infiltrate it. Midway through the operation Private Zellig was compromised and attacked and, against orders, Private Sanders moved to assist her."

"I circled around the base's exterior, using the rooftops to hide, while they assaulted the two Troopers." He continued, Vega looking at him solemnly and simply. Like he knew the ending to the story before he even said it. "I located the Insurrectionist commander, executed her, and shut down the anti aircraft batteries situated in the mountains around the base. Allied reinforcements arrived twenty minutes later to occupy the base and subdue survive enemy infantry."

"Too late for your squad, though." Vega guessed, the 'Trooper nodding simply. "And you still made drops after that?"

"Of course." It was his job, his duty, after all.

"That was your first team, so…" Vega swallowed, anxious, and then asked, "What number is _this_ team?"

"It's…" He had to pause, to _count them up_ , and think about the question for a second. "The fifteenth, I think."

"Santo infierno… Hang on, got incoming." The man shook his head, raising his wrist, Omni-Tool sparking to life as he did. For a few minutes, the man skimmed the message and then he went on, "Commander needs you in uniform or armor, whichever you like, for a meeting with the Council. Your armor's been patched up for a while now, in a box in your quarters. Guess she knows which you're gonna pick, adding _that_ on..."

He nodded and stood, giving the larger man a small nod, "Thank you for the talk. And the spar."

Then he was gone, headed to his quarters to get his armor on for the meeting ahead of him, while the other man called after him that it 'wasn't a problem'.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

His helmet clicked into place over his head and he sighed contentedly, eyes closed while he enjoyed the sweet feeling of its weight on his head. The familiar drag of the armor when he turned his head right and left, checking to make sure the sections around the neck weren't hindering him in anyway, was an odd comfort to him. When he was satisfied by that he alternated stretching each arm and leg, then bending, kneeling, and miming drawing his knife, rifle and sidearm repeatedly until he was equally satisfied by _that_ as being adequate. Finally he geban running a systems check, booting up and shutting down each system several times in turn to make sure that _if_ something happened, he wouldn't stuck in the field without shields.

He was getting used to having a shield, he noted casually with a blink as the system flicked on and his barrier snapped up, sparking along his body for a brief second before fading from sight. Whether it was good or bad that he had so adapted to the shields, and _having_ them, he wasn't sure. Though he'd done fine in Huerta, so he felt safe in saying it wasn't a hindrance.

Not that he wanted to dwell on Huerta, or anything related, right now.

"I'm almost ready, Ma'am." He said quietly when the woman joined him, wearing her armor sans helmet and smiling pleasantly while he went over last checks. "Making sure my armor is in good shape."

"Wrex put his best technicians on it, once he got wind of the repairs. Toss in maintenance offers of our own, and Garrus of course, I wouldn't be surprised if your armor is running better than _mine_." She responded, nodding at the soldier when he turned to look at her. He blinked once and shrugged, turning back to running checks on his Harrier absently. "How are you feeling?"

"Mildly annoyed." He responded frankly, pointing one hand at his helmet, where his rank had been emblazoned in dull gold over the visor, small enough to not be _too_ visible but still clear in person. Then he pointed to his chest, where a symbol had been painted in dull red, three thin claw marks over what looked like a hammer, "I didn't approve the changes."

"One's your rank, and is required at a certain point so your approval wasn't needed. Whether you're a specialist unit or not, you do have _some_ regs you have to follow, you know.." She pointed out strictly, sliding from 'Mama' to 'Commander' in less than a second and then, like flicking a switch, cracking a grin and sliding _back_ to 'Mama' inside another second. "The symbol is… Honorific and obviously Krogan. I approved it in your stead, to improve Krogan relations."

"What is it?" Curiorsity, once again, had his mouth moving ahead of his brain. Something he'd need to work on fixing, he realized with a small frown.

"The claws," she started, stepping close and pointing at them, "Represent Humans, Turians and Krogans each in equal measure, and the hammer signifies the Thresher Hammers you used to summon Kalros. _Your_ honorific symbol, apparently, and the one your clan has adopted along with you."

"I see." It was necessary, then, for relations to continue being improved. In all likelihood him _having_ the symbol would do little aside from earn him recognition, but refusing - or removing it - might be an insult and divide their alliance. Plus it was _his_ symbol, and his clan's, and he felt… Oddly comforted by those two facts. "I rescind my complaints then, Ma'am. I appreciate the importance of the demarcations."

"Figured you would." She shrugged, stepping back and leaning against the wall between the two stairways to either side of engineering. "How are you doing, by the way? With… Everything that's happened, I mean?"

"I'm fine." He said, sharper than he intended, before he sighed. Then he leaned on the worktable in front of him, held up by his fingers more than anything else, and added, "I'm alright. Just stressed. Are… Are you okay?"

"I am now. Wasn't a couple days ago, but… But you helped there. Kolyat, too, so..." She shrugged and, in that moment, seemed to age again. Decades in a second, flowing down her like water from a showerhead, and causing her to sag in exhaustion and her eyes to soften with grief. "Thane and I were close. Closer than I'd like to admit, and I knew he was going to die, soon, but…"

"Not like that." He offered gently, watching her from the corner of his eye but keeping his gaze more or less averted. That way, she could be open without feeling like she was dumping it onto him directly.

"Yeah." She murmured in response, looking at his Harrier sadly for a long moment. Likely because of the weapon's origin, he guessed after a second. "Not like that… I imagined holding his hand in Huerta as the end came on, and he fell asleep. Not him being spit on a sword by some Cerberus bastard who thinks he's a goddamn ninja or… Whatever the hell Leng _thinks_ he is."

"Leng?" He asked, finally turning to look at her. The change cascaded over her when he turned to face her, years melting away under a facade of cold steel she always kept up. A way to hide, he could tell, from everything. Prying eyes included. "He the one that killed Thane?"

"Kai Leng." Shepard amended for him, and the ODST's eyes narrowed behind his visor as the name registered in his head. Saved, almost, like a slot in a memory storage device he'd had growing up. "Assassin for Cerberus, been that way for a while. Hackett said he knows of him petty damn intimately, and he'd forward some files. Hopefully help me put the bastard in the ground for what he did."

"Or into a sun." He added dryly, the woman blinking at him a few times before leaning to the side, head at an angle as she stared at him. Anxious, he asked, "What?"

"That was… Did you just make a fucking joke?" He shrugged and she grinned, pushing off the wall while he sighed and took a step back from her warily. It didn't matter of course, she just took another step before she wrapped her arms around him and, courtesy of her augmented abilities, hugged him off his feet and into the air. "You're making jokes now! Oh, Kalahira, you're making _progress_!"

"Kalahira?" He coughed out after a second, wrestling a hand free and resting it on her shoulder in his struggle for freedom. Slowly, she set him down, and he added, "That's one of Thane's gods, isn't it?"

"Not… Not just his." She answered, letting him stagger away and turning, on arm across her chest to hold the other while her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. "I… Told you we were close, but it wasn't, like, _sexual_ or _romantic_ , it was… He helped me get over my death. Get past it."

"You mentioned you were spiritual." In passing, way back when, in that meeting with the Primarch and Wrex when she needed him to open up to them.

When they'd wanted to bounce ideas off him from his world, see what they could find that would be useful. And she'd been fast to backtrack from it, and now that made sense, since it was rather _odd_ for a Human Alliance soldier to follow an alien faith. She was the pride of Humanity, after all… Who knew how people would react to the pride of _Humanity_ following a _Drell_ religion, even in passing and after everything she'd been through?

"He and I talked a lot, he prayed a lot. For the mercs we were fighting, for the people that got caught up in it all… For me." She choked the last out through grit teeth and then shook herself and sighed, "After a while, I started asking questions. Debating, I guess, really. And that turned to me reading, and…"

"It just clicked." He offered, watching the small smile tug at her lips at the suggestion. Barely anything at all, but enough for him to know he was on the money.

"It just clicked... Yeah." She echoed with a tight, stiff nod and then a sigh. Without looking at him, she waved a hand at the floor and started to rambled, "L-Look, I'm not about it, all the time. I just read and stuff, in my quarters. I-I won't mention it to you or-or try and push you, told you that before, but I-"

"I get it." He shrugged, now understanding why the prayers and names had moved him so. Shepard's memories, almost all subconscious and below his recollection, had done it. Affected him in different way than he'd been looking for, because of what he couldn't have known about.

"You… Get it?" She asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I remember suffocating in the vacuum of space, feeling my armor melt around me as I fell into the planet beyond and… Watching my home fall apart, lanced by energy weapons and sent spiraling around me." He added, the woman grimacing at _those_ memories. Enough he felt, and soundly dismisses, a pang of guilt for having brought it up. Stepping past her, he laid a hand on her shoulder and added, "Won't breathe a word, and I don't judge you. But we have work to do, Ma'am."

"You're right." She nodded after a second, grabbing his Harrier and handing it to him as it collapsed. With another curt, sharp nod and a sure, comfortable smile she asked simply, "You ready to meet the people in charge?"

"Yes, Ma'am." He was _eager_ , in fact.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Councilor Sparatus has orders to support us, as long as we aren't ridiculous in our demands, and Valern _probably_ knows that. Not that he can do anything about it, really, aside from try and roadblock our demands in regards to the Union. Orders from _his_ boss, same kinda case as Sparatus in that respect." Shepard rattled off clinically, catching them up as they climbed the stairs into the grand hallway the Citadel used as their hearing room. Almost a throne room unto itself, it vaguely reminded him of Covenant structures he'd had the pleasure of visiting on operations as an ODST and a Marine both.

Notably less plasma whizzing by his head, for one thing.

"There isn't a Human Councilor, so that's an abstain on any vote as a rule until Hackett nominates someone and the Council as a whole approves it. Tevos will stay neutral, and Sparatus will side with us, but that means every vote will fail." Which means they wouldn't be able to win a vote to appoint a new Human Councilor, since Tevos would know supporting it would align with the Human-Turian alliance and end the lockdown they were in. "So we have to sway the Asari Councilor to side with us, or… Or sidestep the Council itself entirely, which is something we're trying to avoid, best we can."

"Not that it's working all that well, hate to say." A tired, gravelly voice said as a scarred man in a pressed, shining uniform stepped to meet them before the last set of stairs ahead of the Council. The Trooper saw the rank and saluted, but the old man shook his head and offered a hand instead, "To hell with rank, soldier. You've done enough to be my equal, bars or not. Admiral Steven Hackett, good to meet you in person, son."

"Sir, it's good to meet you." He didn't hesitate to take the hand, accepting the gesture more to avoid causing offense than for any other reason. The admiral, kind as he'd been, was still _mostly_ an unknown, after all. A problem for another time, s instead he asked, "You came in person, Sir?"

"Been here a few days, actually, Lieutenant Commander." Hackett answered, relaxing into a military rest position without much thought. Like an old, career soldier, more comfortable standing in parade formation now than simply _standing_. "I'd prefer myself and the _Normandy_ both be out there, actually fighting, but with the attack on the Citadel, Udina's treason, and the Salarian… conflict, I've been needed here."

"How's the rest of the war, Admiral?" Shepard asked, the old man looking at her evenly, eyes lacking the same… Appraisal, he didn't know how else to phrase it, that he'd levied at the ODST.

He was a curiosity, apparently, or the man was inspecting him for injuries. He couldn't be sure which, and neither mattered in the moment, so he let it go.

"Not very well. Our military doesn't have the tactics for fighting the way Reapers deploy. Their ships don't use formations, they _grapple ours_ and crush them in their massive finger-like things. And their infantry never needs to stop, so a position just has Husks pour in until it runs out of _ammunition_ if nothing else." The aged soldier sighed, the sound old and withered but somehow firm in that furious way that only a few ancient soldiers could manage. "Oddly enough, the Krogan have been helpful, there. On the ground, Blood Pack 'consultants' with Vorcha to either counter the Reapers, or train our men for us. And pirates who used to use grappling cables to board ships showing us how to build formations to defend against that, too."

"Are they trustworthy?" Shepard asked in a low voice, wary of the same problems he was, then. More quietly, of course, he held the same reservations, but Shepard was anything _but_ quiet when she had an opinion. "Pirates, mercenaries… Probably slavers in there, too." And _that_ sounded like she had some baggage there he would never ask about, "You really trust them in positions like that?"

"After what you and Doe did for them? That insanity back on Tuchanka?" Hackett nodded with a small, amused sound in the back of his throat, like a cough meeting a bark of laughter and unsure how to continue on. "Way some of the Krogan talk about it, even the ones who _didn't_ get cured, you're probably the center of some kind of cult. I trust them, least as long as you two are around."

"Understood." Shepard snapped off, cold and military, before she asked in a quieter, wary voice, "What's the plan regarding the Council?"

"First is a commendation for Doe, yourself and Krios, for your actions in the Cerberus attack." He already disliked this meeting, then. Accolades from assholes on top that weren't helping the situation they were thanking him for intervening in? No thank you, he'd prefer his next deployment. "Then, well… We press the Asari Councilor to hold a vote of no confidence against Valern, and try and instate a Human Councilor."

"Won't work." Shepard warned, the man sighing tiredly but giving a nod in answer. So they all knew pressing the Asari Councilor wouldn't do anything, then. "Guess we have to at least try… Even if it's pointless, we can say we did later on, when people look at how the war went."

"Let's get this over with, then." Hackett finally ordered, turning and waving a hand for them to head up first. "That way we can get back to fighting the Reapers and saving the whole damn galaxy."

The Council chambers had been repaired quickly after the Cerberus assault, a priority job according to the news outlets he'd seen. It made a certain kind of sense, really, that those in command would prioritize need their place _of_ command repaired and in order. If only for morale purposes, the Council would _need_ to look calm, cool and collected, and that everything was in perfect order around them, in the heart of the Citadel. Even if other parts were still burning, damaged, and the repair technicians deployed to _fix it_ needed military sweeps ahead of them in case of turrets, traps and worse.

The _Councilors_ , though, didn't look as perfect as their chambers did.

Valern stood stiff, hands folded in front of himself and wringing slowly in anxiety while wide, analytical Salarian eyes watched the three Humans walk out onto the hearing platform. The Asari Council stood beside him, eyes flicking between each Human curiously, but face set as though it had been carved from solid stone, betraying nothing about her anxiety. Anxiety he knew she would be feeling, though, in the current situation. She'd been the councilor of the Asari for centuries, and he knew well enough from the Extranet how ruthless and intelligent she almost always had been.

Sparatus, though? He was leaning in the podium in front of him with his talons clutch at the metal sides hard enough that they explained the litany of scores along its underse. Unlike the other two, he wore medium looking armor, a helmet hanging off the back of his waist and a heavy, blocky looking pistol collapsed on his waist. Where the other two Councilors looked at them warily, like something to be afraid of, he _smiled_ and stood straighter to give them each a respectful nod.

"Admiral, Commander, Lieutenant Commander." The alien called out before the others could offer a colder reception, talons curling into a fist over his breast in a salute as his head bowed. "It is a pleasure to see you all, and I'm glad your wounds have healed after your heroics on Tuchanka, Lieutenant Commander Doe."

"Thank you." He responded when eyes landed on him and Shepard gave him a short, sidelong look. Feeling prompted by the alien leader, he added, "I only did my duty, Sir. What needed to be done. I look forward to continuing to fight the Reapers."

"As do I." The Turian answered, turning slightly to regard Tevos beside him, a predatory smirk spreading across his face before he spoke. "And every other loyal Turian as well. Like, I'm sure, everyone loyal to the _Citadel_. Don't you agree, Tevos?"

"Don't try and bait us, Sparatus, it's beneath all _three_ of us." The Asari responded coolly, turning her bright eyes on the trio of Humans standing across from them. The woman smiled thinly, in a way that gave the soldier a sense she only did it to _feign_ politeness, and went on without pause, "And while Sparatus' opinions on your… Actions in the Krogan conflict don't reflect official Council sentiments, I can accept admiration for the courage shown in what you all did."

"Along with your actions in saving our lives once again, Commander." Valern added, as though his words had been long planned to follow Tevos' own. Judging by their Turian fellow's rolled eyes, that was a likely case. "So, officially, the Council has voted to offer Council commendations to yourself, your crew, your new Lieutenant Commander, and one Thane Krios. Who, posthumously, it was revealed was an assassin who had murdered many people, and those crimes we have ordered cleansed from his official record as well."

"First two votes that have gone through in a week." Sparatus grumbled shortly, a sneer painted across his face. "But we still can't appoint a replacement Human Councilor for Udina."

"Because, in the current situation, we have graver concerns. And there's no way to know the new Councilor is not somehow compromise." Tevos offered coldly, and somewhat tiredly as well. Like they'd had _this_ argument a few dozen times already and she dreaded even responding for fear of it starting up again. "Between the Reapers, the rapidly remilitarizing Krogan-"

"Then let's hold a vote to allow the remilitarization of Krogan space!" The Turian snapped, waving a hand through the air with a muted whistle as talons tore through the air between the two Councilors. Before she could respond, he added, "I move that the Turian Hierarchy be allowed to supervise the remilitarization of the former Krogan Demilitarized Zone. I add that the Hierarchy is in alliance with the Krogan Coalition of Clans, and this is done in response to the Reaper threat."

"Denied." Valern was quick to say, before he traded a look with the Asari Councilor.

"...Denied." She echoed mutedly, a small grimace stretching across her face as the Turian snarled. "Sparatus, you knew that calling such an abrupt vote as that would inevitably fail. You're not so foolish as to think differently, I hope."

"Of course it would! Because you'll use it as an excuse, but won't let me fix it." Sparatus snarled, eyes glinting with fury before he sighed and returned to leaning on the podium. With a shake of his head, he added, "CDEM can't act against the Krogan in any event, they've been decimated by the Reapers early assaults in the zone."

"Then the Turian military is obligated to bolster their forces." Valern pointed out coolly, "Unless, of course, they are betraying their treaties and obligations."

"The Primarch has ordered every Turian to stand down and ignore that command, and you know it." Sparatus countered, waving a talon in the air dismissively. "If you have a problem with it, tell you what. Call a damn vote, show everyone how deep your hooks run in Tevos' hide."

"That is uncalled for." The Asari snapped, actually losing her visage of cool calm for a split second as she rounded on the Turian.

"Is it?" Sparatus asked quietly, a spined brow raised slightly in question. When the Asari nodded stubbornly he explained in a low, threatening voice. "Every damn time I call a vote to move forward on _any_ of these issues, issues _you two_ will use to excuse inaction in other important departments, you either abstain or vote against me and _for_ Valern. So am I wrong in suggesting that the STG would have hooks in you?"

"Yes." She snarled, turning from her podium in a tempest of fury, now. "You are insulting me personally, and out of line besides, Councilor."

"Fine, then." Sparatus drawled, voice almost mocking as he tried again. "I move that Admiral Steven Hackett, as the highest official left in the Systems Alliance Government, be allowed to appoint a replacement Councilor to the Human seat. I vote to confirm, in case you couldn't guess."

"Denied." Valern was quick to cut in, the Asari murmuring her own denial in short order. Seeing the fury and argument written across the Turian's face, Valern explained as quickly as he could. "He is a military official, not an elected one. Only the Systems Alliance Senate can appoint someone to the Council. Further, there's the matter of the _clear_ anti-Salarian sentiment he harbors over the Special Task Group's intervention in an illegal operation against a Salarian installation."

"Alliance governing procedures mean I _am_ the President of the Systems Alliance, Councilor. Well within my authorities in every direction of appointing an official, just like Primarch Victus could if need me." Hackett added loudly, to interrupt their argument now, at what looked to be an opportune moment. "And if you refer to your attempted murder of one of _my soldiers_ because _you_ wanted to intervene in a separate, domestic issue between two species, then I will leave immediately. The Citadel and the Council _both_."

"Ludicrous." Valern cut in while Tevos gaped at the threat, shocked by the mere _suggestion_ someone would leave the Council. "No species would surrender and void their position on the Council. Doing so would be suicide for any species' political ambitions in half the _galaxy_ as a whole."

"It's not like we can _participate_ , and you all seem just fine to hold us to the laws of being in it anyway." Shepard pointed out loudly on his other side, waving her hand at the two aliens on the right side of the raised platform. "You're both blocking any attempt to let us interact with the Council as equals, so why _should_ we stay in an alliance that's just using us, and abusing us besides?"

"Murder attempts, backhanded blocking of our political involvement, and military demands on _us_ as well, while you all refuse to assist us in any and every attempt to fight the Reapers.." The Admiral summarised quickly, shaking his head. "Forgive me, Councilors, but I don't find it very easy to actually see a _point_ in our continued involvement."

"Not to mention the STG sabotaging Turian soldiers and fighter wings, and kiling our men." Sparatus snapped a finger though, in a very Human gesture which was probably partially the point, "Ah, but you voted against Salarian reparations for _that_ too, Tevos. And without a Human Councilor, I can't do anything about it."

"Are you accusing me of abetting murder?" Tevos asked in a sharp voice, clearly expecting the Turian to reject the idea.

"Yes. I very much am." He answered thinly, hawkish eyes watching her like a predator watching its prey struggle and gape in its claws. "What do you plan to do about it, Tevos? Hold a _vote_ maybe?"

"I have half a mind." She answered coldly, "A vote of no confidence seems in order, given your animosity."

"Save it." The Turian sneered, turning to the Human Admiral and asking in a surprisingly coy voice, "We came to an agreement already, Admiral. Do you want to tell them or do you want _me_ to?"

"The Systems Alliance hereby invites High Warlord Urdnot Wrex to speak, by way of communicator, from a ship here in orbit around the Citadel." Before the other two could speak - and deny the request, most likely - Sparatus flicked a hand and a massive holographic projection appeared to the left of the Humans. "High Warlord, it's good to see you. Is the connection clear on your end?"

"Everything's working just fine, Admiral." The Krogan sneered, standing with his massive arms crossed over his chest. His gaze landed on John and the alien nodded, "Good to see you. Heard you kicked some serious Cerberus ass when they attacked the Citadel. Good on you, for that. Sorry I wasn't there to mix it up with you."

"It's fine." He answered shortly, nodding his helmeted head politely, "Good to see you as well."

"Save that until you see why I'm here, Rook." And there was his curiosity again, eyebrows knitting together behind his visor. The Krogan ignored him, though, and turned to the Admiral, "Take it away, Hackett. S'your plan, end of the day, even if I love it."

"Understood." The Admiral took a breath to steady himself and spoke, "As of now, due to abuses and attacks against the Systems Alliance not contained merely by attempted murder and espionage as well as diplomatic insults and treaties not being recognized by other members of the Council, the Human Systems Alliance hereby annuls its seat on the Council entirely and withdraws from the Citadel."

"The Turian Hierarchy follows our allies in the Systems Alliance." Sparatus barked sharply, pressing a few buttons on his platform and turning to stand beside his podium instead of in front of it. "Until the elimination of the Reaper threat, on order of Primarch Victus, we also annul our embassy holdings and withdraw from all associated defensive treaties."

"This is insanity!" Tevos shouted, glancing accusatorily at Valern for a moment and then rounding on Sparatus. "Whatever kind of stunt you think you're pulling, Sparatus, it's absolutely not-"

"This isn't a stunt, Tevos." Sparatus interrupted simply, offering a small, sad shrug to his former colleague, "The Turian race won't pay for whatever Valern and his Salarian authorities are holding over the Republics. And you have both made it clear that personal matters and beliefs decide your course ahead of the needs of your allies. Something that the Humans and Krogan _both_ do in spades."

"The Krogan are a threat, don't you understand?" Valern asked, calm veneer cracking at the sudden turn of events. "Once the war is over-"

"We'll resettle our system and work with our other allies in the Coalition of Associated Races to establish a stable empire." Wrex interrupted simply, waving a hand at the Turian leader as an example. "With Krogan and Turian muscle on the ground and in space, we won't have a match in the war with the Reapers. Or against whatever comes after, either."

"The Volus will go with us, as well, and bring their knowledge of finances and banking with them." Sparatus added, giving Tevos a sad look and then shaking his head. "It's done, Tevos. This war is more important than petty self interests. And the Hierarchy _will_ stand on the side that recognizes that."

"Now excuse us, Councilors." Hackett said sternly and quietly, turning to leave, "We have work to do, organizing our new government and reinforcing Krogan space for refugees and repair stations. You never know what, or _who_ , will come to attack us."

Silent, the two Councilors watched the Turian join his Human allies and leave, Wrex's grinning hologram flickering out a moment later. And equally silently, he moved to follow them out of the hearing area and down the steps, headed towards the elevator.

"I'll be boarding my destroyer shortly and heading for Krogan space along with a defensive flotilla." Sparatus said lowly when they reached the main elevator, and the group paused in front of it. "I doubt that the Republic will go to war over this, but the Union _may_ try something."

"Understood." Hackett answered with a curt nod, "I'll escort you, along with the High Warlord's travel-frigate. Shepard."

"Yes, Sir?"

"I want the Normandy on rear guard, and then you're to meet with us on Tuchanka, at the Hollows." He turned to the Turian, who met the man's gaze with one of his own filled with curiosity. "Ceremonial krogan site, the ships in orbit can direct you to a landing site. As good a place as any for official government proceedings, until something better can be arranged. Or _built_."

"Sounds like a good enough place, I agree." He nodded, Turian guards coming to stand behind him to either side warily after the display. He paid them no mind and nodded, looking exhausted as he spoke further, "It's unfortunate it had to come to this, but the Reapers… We can't afford Salarian manipulations or Asari patience against this."

"Exactly." Hackett agreed, sounding and looking grave, "Now, we have a war to fight, and nothing to hold us back while we do."

 _That_ the ODST could understand, and get behind, absolutely. His war was like theirs and, it seemed, now they were learning to do what they didn't like but needed to be doing in order to survive. And honestly, to him at least, it seemed about time for that kind of pragmatism to be front and center.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **SD Phantom :**_

 **Thane's involvement with things beyond what Thane has said, and chapters he's in. As you found out in this chapter. XD**

 _ **Brainarius :**_

 **Because the way to save Ashley or Kaidan requires you to have visited them a few times and spoken with them, to earn their trust. In this, due to the rush of the Reaper war and the desperate need of Krogan support - more, slightly, than in canon due to outside influences - she didn't have time to return to the Citadel.**

 **Thus, she didn't earn Ash's trust and so Ash didn't stand down. Saving them is part of a perfect runthrough, and this is** _ **no**_ **perfect runthrough. Sorry if it upsets you, I've nothing against the characters, except Ashley a** _ **bit**_ **. Just the way the story fell.**

 **Side note I, uh,** _ **may**_ **have killed Kaidan in my first runthrough. .**

 _ **Helljumper 406 :**_

 **No, sorry.**

 _ **Zeus 501 :**_

 **Explanation for Ash above, though in hindsight, yeah. Ash and Rook would have been an interesting back and forth. He'd understand her mild xenophobic tendencies, at the very least, and she'd validate that.**

 _ **Raptor 010 :**_

 **As are many people, apparently.**


	19. Chapter 19

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

_**Official Supporters:**_

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 _ **If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our discord. Server ,.for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, and remember to post a Review/Comment to let me know what you liked and didn't.**_

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 _ **Betas for this story so far :**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Hello… Viewers, this is Khalisah Al-Jilani, your number one reporter of all things you need to think about regarding the fate of the Systems Alliance. As you know, with the largely concrete dissolution of the Citadel Council, and the effects therein, I am an independent reporter. So please, consider supporting me on , under the name Khali-Jilani." Shepard rolled her eyes at the pandery introduction as well as the undercutting of what was _left_ of the Council's authority, but argued against neither.

She had her orders after all, so she simply sat across from the woman in the Normandy's mess hall with a patient smile and her hands folded on the table, waiting while she rattled off an advertisement before finally turning to her, "And of course, myself being _her_ guest for once aboard the _SSV Normandy_ , I'm here with Commander Jane Shepard, Alliance Navy and former Council Spectre."

"A pleasure, and, if I may?" She raised an eyebrow at the woman who, wary of older interactions with her, nodded and waved her weathered looking drone forward with a hand, "Hello to all of you, as well. I just wanted to, personally, wish you all the best and say that you're in my prayers. And my thoughts, every time I land on Reaper ground or engage a Cerberus assault force."

"A good message to start with, Commander." The woman complimented coolly, seeming to _actually_ like the words regardless of their less than agreeable past. "Now, as per our agreement - and the viewers at home can read it on my site - we agreed on several lines of questions before this."

"Yes." All the better not to get ambushed as badly with. "And I'm glad we came to an agreement, as well."

"I could say the same, Commander." But she didn't, of course. Instead she let it hang for just a second, long enough to make the absolutely _glacial_ levels of iciness between them clear to her viewers and prime them for how to receive Shepard. "So, would you like to start with the _juiciest_ pieces I was told I'm allowed to ask about?"

"That being?"

"Tall, dark and jumps from a ship in a metal pod?" And Khalahira, she could _see_ the mirth dancing in the blitz reporter's eyes. "Your new XO, no less, from what I understand."

"Ah. That, ah… I see." She sighed and asked in a quiet tone, "So, Admiral Hackett said you were allowed to ask me about him? I should have been informed of that, I think."

"I was supposed to, and I contacted my agent to arrange it. I suppose, with the chaos going on in the galaxy right now, the message… Didn't get through." Even now, in a 'civil' interview, the woman found a way to blindside her. Shepard's eyes narrowed dangerously and, suddenly serious, the reporter rushed to add, "This is a livestream, Commander. I wouldn't risk my reputation, or my military clearances, to get a relatively minor scoop and then be another refugee sent into the former DMZ for 'my own good'."

"Conditions on Tuchanka and in Aralakh system are better than in a Reaper hold or one of their prisoner camps, I can promise you _that_ much." Shepard pointed out snappishly, quickly schooling her emotions to gauge the woman's claim. "I trust you to cover your back, though, and asking about classified intelligence and _lying_ about clearance would put a knife right in it. So, ask away."

"That was a colorful description, Commander…"

"I'm _very_ imaginative, Ma'am." She smiled, drumming her fingers on the table and smiling thinly at her, "And _your_ time is ticking. Literally."

"I know, and it's fine by me. This kind of back and forth is nice, it shows that we're both just people at the end of the day." The woman reached up to brush long hair out of her face, loose and hanging, just long enough for Shepard to pick out a hairline scar. Pale, pink, and flaring slightly towards the end.

Her reaction must have shown because the woman across from her explained, turning and pulling her hair aside so the special forces soldier could see it and her camera could move around to show her reaction and the scar both, "I was on the Citadel, Commander. Reporting on the refugee situation in the camps cropping up around C-Sec intake, I'm sure you saw them when you visited?"

"Yeah." It had been hard not to, frankly. Supply crates turned into housing stacked high in civilian docking areas, C-Sec unwilling to do what they _technically_ should have and arrest the squatters. Tragic, but better than nothing. "What happened?"

"I'd been doing a side piece investigating Council corruption rumors regarding Udina, taking money and acting against Human interests." The woman explained, letting her hair fall back now that the resurrected renegade had seen the scar well enough that she could guess at what it was before the woman explained. "Well, surprise surprise, I was right. And he didn't like what I'd been publishing about him, or that I had pushed so hard for an official report from him about the situation."

"So when Cerberus showed, they went looking for you." Shepard guessed quietly with a small, sympathetic grimace.

"Grabbed me and a bunch of other 'undesirable assets', lined us up against a wall, and started shooting. Round cut across the side of my head, probably saved my life because it knocked me down." She swallowed anxiously after she finished her story and her eyes flicked to Shepard for a second, and then to the camera, before she forced a smile so brittle it could have been made of _glass_ on for effect. "One of their contacts on the Citadel, only joined up because of you, saw what was happening and rallied the rest of the prisoners. Those Cerberus idiots had given him a gun and put him in charge of them… Three Troopers and an officer didn't stand a chance against raging refugees. Some of which came with _claws_."

"Sounds like a brave man." She could imagine how brave he'd have to be, to lead a charge against a Cerberus gun squad with only him being armed. And even if he lived, he'd have been arrested… "What happened to him?"

"Oh, I took him back to my apartment after I got out of treatment and _he_ got out of the Alliance's inquiry office. Fun night, didn't go how I wanted, but he's a good friend now. He's my producer now, the Alliance pardoned him to work on something classified.." She shrugged and offered the woman a small smile, "He's a _massive_ fan of you, that's why he pushed so hard for this interview to happen. Says you're his best friend of all time."

"Oh…" Oh no. No, no, no, no- "What's his name, then?"

"Conrad Verner." She answered simply, Shepard's smile _cracking_ as she did. "He said you met on the Citadel, in your hunt for Saren. Talked him out of enlisting, said he was your friend, and you inspired him to get back to school and finish his PHD."

"Conrad got a PHD?" She'd always assumed he was a fanboying idiot… Harmless and a good guy, at heart, but nothing that would ever amount to anything. "What field?"

"Three, actually. Advanced theoretical physics in regards to particle effects in vacuums, quantum mass effect entanglement integration, and a dissertation on biotic integration with kinetic distortion barriers onboard ships to reduce heat usage." She blinked as though remembering something and turned, fishing in her large purse for a few seconds before pulling out a book as thick as Shepard's head, "When the Reapers trashed his orphanage, he sold everything he had to get them off world. _This_ is a signed, physical copy of his dissertations for you. A gift."

"Oh." She took it and blinked at the surprising girth of the thing. "This is… Big."

"Yep." She leaned over, the camera buzzing by to help, and flipped open the cover to an introductory page, " _This_ is special for you. A thank you, he asked me to point it out. These can be bought on the Extranet in digital version, and hardback if people want it, but _this_ is unique."

"Thank you." It was actually rather thoughtful, and _apparently_ the man was some manner of genius judging by her quick scan of the foreword. Maybe some kind of condition? "I'm sorry, did you say _orphanage_?"

"Yes. The 'Shepards'. Full name 'Shepards of Wayward and Needy Youth', technically, but that's just the legal name." She waved it off and smiled, "But this is twenty minutes of my interview gone already, so…"

"Let's restart the timer, then." Shepard said quickly, offering the woman a smile and then turning to the camera, "And this is my favorite book _off_ the Citadel, for everyone that knows my licensing deals."

"Wonderful. Now," Khalisah leaned forward, "Tell me about the relocation programs. Is it true that Human worlds are being _evacuated_ to Krogan space?"

"Yes, Aralakh system is the current home of the United Solar Governments, and _that_ name will be reviewed once a governing body can be built." She hoped it would change, too, it didn't roll off the tongue like a real name should. At least in her opinion, that was. "There's a lot of hard work to be done, repairing Tuchanka and defending against natural predators, but the Krogan are more than welcoming to their Human allies' refugees."

"Because of this… John Doe?" Shepard nodded and the woman smiled, "Please, tell us about that. How much of the rumors can you confirm?"

"It… Depends on the rumors." She answered simply, settling in for a _conversation_ and knowing Hackett would have words for her later.

"Hackett confirmed the ones for me when he approved the interview, this is just for my viewers. Who can't see the document I was given." She assured him, the Commander nodding simply at the statement, "Start with how he was adopted by a Krogan clan, first. _That_ is a story that involves you, so it's a good start."

"Very well…"

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

The ODST pressed his armored back against the wall behind him, the ancient rubble not shifting even as he pressed against it in the black of the night. Stretching out around him for miles was the same kind of rubble, like the rolling hills he'd seen in pictures of Earth and on countless planets in his career. Save for the fact that _these_ rolling hills were entirely artificial, made of the ancient and crumbled ruins of the Krogan society that had been before their self-inflicted holocaust. Tuchankan nights were cold, but his armor, thankfully, insulated him against the very worst of it to allow him to stand stock still against the wall, the other side of the little cleft he'd slid down into to hide only a few inches beyond his face. His mission had started twelve hours earlier, and two _kilometers_ north of where he was, and was as simple as it was difficult.

Make it to the Hollows past Krogan infantry patrols, Alliance armor support and entrenchments, and Turian air patrols roving the area.

Back pressed against the wall and magnum held in his hand, he slid down into a kneeling position, eyes locked on the end of the cleft as shadows passed by less than three yards away. Deciding to test the patrol, he slowly, painfully rose and slinked forward, one hand held a hair's breadth from the stone face ahead of him in case he stumbled, so he could catch himself before he fell and made _real_ noise. A measure that, in truth, was almost certainly unnecessary, but the moment one got arrogant was the moment one picked out his headstone and srote out his will.

"-do you think he is? " The woman, Human and lightly armored, asked, standing inside one of the 'checkpoints' that had been established every mile the road stretched. Little more than barricades on either side, a barrier between the directions of traffic, and watchtowers keeping an eye out in truth. But, eventually, he knew it would be a small fortress.

Problems for the future, he chided himself.

"It's already been half a day, but that's rough terrain, and he _has_ to be crossing it since none of the checkpoints have seen him." Her Turian counterpart, lightly armored and leaning against the bottom of the watchtower, answered simply. "Maybe he's reached checkpoint five?"

"Checkpoint _four_ at least." the Human soldier answered with a small laugh, "Wouldn't put anyone else at that speed except Spectres and N7s, but this guy is… Apparently absolutely fucking _insane_."

"Hear the Krogans talk about him, you'd think he was some kind of super soldier, like out of the vids." The Turian acknowledged, giving a warbling sigh and glancing around them, eyes roving uninterestedly over the hidden, still ODST without ever seeing him. Finally, the alien remarked, "Time for my patrol up the road to Checkpoint Two, though."

Pushing further, he picked up a loose stone and chucked it clean of the cleft, sending it skittering along the rubble the way he'd come from. The two soldiers turned at the sound, the woman half-raising her Avenger, but both simply exchanged glances and shrugged it off, the woman grunting simply, "Probably an animal, no way it's him. And Varren are all over the place around here, too."

"Yeah…" The Turian warbled gently, asking, "Should we call it in anyway? I can go check it out, if they order it."

"Nah." She dismissed with a wave of her hand, sounding exhausted. "Was just an animal. No sense getting command to dispatch eyes over a damn Varren. And besides, _no_ way he's back here yet."

Satisfied by what his testing had given him, he frowned and slid back the way he'd come, slowly and methodically until the voices vanished. Then even further, until the trundling of armor receded into a muted sound in the back of his hearing.

Then he turned and climbed up the wall carefully and quietly, scanned the approach from Checkpoint _One_ to the objective, and began crawling, walking in a rushed little half-crouch, and slinking between cover to get there.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"The patrol patterns are well maintained, but there's a distinctive lack of understanding of the environment among the Humans and Turians." He finished his report, standing in the private office of Admiral Hackett, the man seated across the metal desk from where he stood and devoting all his attention to the soldier's report. "Fatigue is also undermining decision making, I believe. Though morale seems high enough."

"Between the Reaper war and the schism with the Council, _that_ is one problem we don't have." Hackett grunted with a short, curt nod and a shake of his head. "News turned out favorably for us where it mattered, so recruitment is up. And with the Turians reinforcing space around Tuchanka… Well, we have places for refugees to _go_ , and work that needs doing where they end up."

"Hm." Hard, physical labor in space, on low-atmosphere planets, or on Tuchanka's broken surface to build housing, defenses, repair facilities and whatever else needed building or clearing away. Hard physical labor that, incidentally, many people preferred _military service_ to, the military notably being exempted from most of the labor duties.

Whatever was needed, he supposed. So long as the _species_ survived, there was potential for a better future beyond the labor and pain.

"My recommendations, Sir." He said shortly, laying the holopad on the desk for him and stepping back. "Will that be all?"

"Regarding this? Yes." Hackett answered simply, holding up a hand in a gesture for the younger soldier to wait. "However, I wanted to inform you that the _Normandy_ will be in Tuchankan space once again shortly. Once she is here, your temporary reassignment here will be over."

"Why, Sir?" He was, of course, happy to return to his ship finally after two weeks of dummy operations and formation tests, that could never be denied. But there was his damn curiosity again, rearing its head.

"The same reason I and other fleet officers will be heading offworld to rejoin the fight more directly." The man shrugged simply, gesturing at his meagre, bare surroundings with a wave as he did. "Or did you think this was _my_ office, Lieutenant Commander Doe?"

The office was small, in a four story building assembled from prefabrication sections typically used in colonies, that reminded him much of Eden Prime. And every floor was _full_ of office space, where fleet officers managed troop movements in the sector, refugee work assignments and ration distributions, and whatever else needed to be managed in the slowly establishing administrative center. The first of many, Wrex had promised him in a drunken slur over tankard that looked more like a _barrel_ of Ryncol days prior.

Why _fleet officers_ were doing the job was a mystery to many, the ODST himself being one of them, and he allowed himself to ask the obvious. "That coincides with Shepard's return. Are they connected?"

"Very much so. She's been overseeing publicity events convincing people to evacuate and come here to help, gathering allies to do the same, and as a result of her and the Shadow Broker's assistance, we have a _bevy_ of governors, mayors and administrators coming to the system that will be taking over management." The man smiled and added, sounding pleased, amused and like a man finally releasing some of his stress over something all in one, " _She_ is with the fleet transporting them. First of many to come this way."

"Will it be enough?" He asked, always curious and pessimistic in equal measure from experience and understanding. "Even with the administrators, we're still losing on to many fronts, and we've lost Salarian and Asari support."

"Yes, but Shepard has a brand of loyalty all her own, apparently." Hackett pointed out simply, drumming his fingers on the desk in thought for a few seconds before explaining what he'd meant, "We've got Batarian ships, ships bearing mercenary markings from everyone all the way from Eclipse to the Blue Suns and some smaller bands, and ten Salarian Union ships from apparent deserters. As well as a hundred Specters that are deserting to come to us, to fight the Reapers."

"That's… A lot." That kind of numbers, _food_ would be a problem soon, but he trusted that solutions to that were being pursued as it was and didn't mention it. "Can they be trusted?"

"Shadow Broker contracted the mercenaries, the Salarians were cleared by Shepard and I trust her judgement, and the Batarians just want payback against the Reapers." He dismissed quickly with a wry smile, clearly pleased that they'd gotten so much support. "The Specters… Well, we'll watch them, but they'll be deployed nine times out of ten, so not much they can do but help Cerberus or the Reapers directly."

"I see." That was unlikely, to say the very least, even if they were compromised to the Republics or the Union. "Good news, then, Sir."

"Indeed." He answered with a heavy, relieved sigh, "Now it's just the frigging war to win… But that's up to me, for now. You're dismissed, Lieutenant Commander. Report to Shepard and await her further instructions."

"Yes, Sir." He snapped a salute and turned, headed out of the office and towards the stairs down and out of the building. At the doors, the guards didn't even bother to do more than glance at his armor before letting him through, his equipment distinctive enough to be recognized by basically everyone at a glance.

Somewhat annoying and somewhat pleasant as well, that.

Outside of the main building, the settlement as it was stretched around in each direction for three miles. This settlement, as opposed to any of the hundred others cropping up around the Krogan homeworld, wasn't meant for civilian habitation, industrial developments, farming, or anything else. Instead each of the fifty foot tall buildings that filled the three mile radius were devoted almost entirely to administration offices, the majority of which also served as bunks for the people working there. A wide plaza had been planned in the exact center of the settlement, for a hard defense-evacuation point in the worst case, but for now it was nothing more than a few dozen yards of wide, flat, dirt for three quarters of it while thick sheets of metal had been laid out on the last for shuttles to land from the dreadnought, Hackett's command ship, idling in the sky overhead.

'Just in case', he'd been told when he asked. In case of _what_ was fairly obvious, so he'd not bothered even asking about that.

Atop the majority of the buildings were heavy fortifications and anti-armor batteries facing out of the settlement, the roofs ringed in chest high barriers almost like castle towers. Except that every single roof had them, along with heavy gun emplacements, ammunition processors, thermal clip coolant systems and more. Whatever else would be up there, the soldiers themselves would have to have brought themselves. Soldiers who, even now, patrolled the roofs on careful watch for any threats coming towards the settlement.

It was like one massive fortress, by the Krogan designer's intent. They knew how to settle here, after all, so the native species was being assisted in designing. They just so happened to have the support of _three_ industrialized races now, was all.

He was reminded that not everything on Tuchanka was well, though, when a _Krogan_ of all things lumbered by, missing an eye and cradling his left arm against his chest in a heavy metal sling. Reaper infantry and armor still covered sections of the planet, and the space around it of course, as well as Cerberus raiders and saboteurs. The administrative center of the Coalition had been placed smack in the center of the most secured grounds, of course, and he'd been on call there… So it was easy to think that everything was safe and peaceful, around New London.

"Kralt John Doe." He turned in the mostly empty street, such as it was, to the large Krogan lumbering towards him. He wore light green armor with his symbol splashed across the shoulder in proud, sure strokes. A member of his clan, and as he came to a stop, he brought a fist to his breastplate in respect for him, the other extending with a blocky, salvaged Krogan datapad, "A message from High Warlord Urdnot Wrex, for you, Scar Warrior."

"Understood." He responded simply, reaching out with his armored hand to take the heavy thing from him. The Krogan nodded and he returned it, waiting for his word, so he added, "Dismissed, Courier."

"Understood, Scar Warrior. Good hunting to you and your krantt." The Krogan grunted, striding past him after the dismissal purposefully.

A far cry from how the Extranet descriptions of the Krogan spoke of them, the Krogan he knew now were. With the Cure came a great many changes to Krogan society, almost night and day in comparison. Those who hadn't been cured were, even though they knew that a replication of the Cure was being researched, fanatically devoted to defending those who had received it. Clans that had once been mortal enemies had immediately called upon the Rite of Union, of _dozens_ of Shamans, to mark the Reapers as their mutual enemy and some had even allowed their clans to be absorbed by Cured ones and used as labor and fodder both to protect the special line.

Reading the message he sighed and turned, headed over t where Shepard had landed for a meeting and a new assignment.

On the way, he'd look up what Rachni were in more detail.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Just a quick note, but a lot of the development in Aralakh and throughout politically, and the war at large, won't be directly covered going forward. Not because I don't have it thought through, or thought out, but the focus of the story is on Rookie and his fight through the war.**_

 _ **Plus I don't think that ten thousand words every chapter about fleet movements would be anything**_ **BUT** _**dry as hell to read.**_

 _ **So for those that would like the details, most non-essential Human and Turian worlds are being evacuated to Aralakh and connecting systems. There people with technical skills are being assigned to development while others assist in construction, rubble removal - including sending it to space, in some cases - and so on to essentially rapidly rebuild Tuchanka and neighboring planets into semi-habitable planets to take in the refugees. As well as develop, train and whatever else needed military forces as needed.**_

 _ **In canon, no such refugee location**_ **really** _**existed, outside the very rapidly cramped and developed Citadel. Here, though, Turian training, Krogan strength and endurance and Human ingenuity merge up to facilitate the rebuilding of a system into essentially a fortress sector. Not as extreme, of course, but Cadia is a decent example of the idea I am going for.**_

 _ **Just a minor note in an update chapter.**_

 _ **Next time, the muthachuffing Rachni make an appearance… Yay.**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **SO58 :**_

 **Desperation breeds bad decisions, typically. The Salarians are prone to panicking and pursuing the easiest solutions regardless of harm to others.**

 _ **Guardian X Angel :**_

 **Alluded to it here, yeah.**

 _ **7th Maniac :**_

 **I didn't, don't worry. I was already anticipating many Salarians and Specters and Asari all having minor numbers schism away.**

 _ **Enji-Bently :**_

 **Easier to make Shepard do it** _ **for**_ **him, running around playing newscaster and making it look good to get people on board.**

 _ **Spudy potato :**_

 **Yeah, I tried to be careful with that.**


	20. Chapter 20

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

_**Official Supporters:**_

 _ **Grand Priestess, Luna Haile -**_

 _ **High Priest, Alvelvnor**_

 _ **Priest, The Impossible Muffin**_

 _ **Priest, Xager the Chaos King**_

 _ **Acolyte, Victus**_

 _ **Acolyte, DigiDemonLord**_

 _ **Acolyte, Stonecold**_

 _ **Acolyte, Espacole**_

 _ **Initiate, Greg Gibson**_

 _ **Initiate, Gentleman Mad**_

 _ **If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our discord. Server ,.for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, and remember to post a Review/Comment to let me know what you liked and didn't.**_

 _ **So, Fanfiction will not let me link to discord. So, I apologize to every single FF reader for this, but please PM me for a join link. And please consider doing so, I enjoy chatting with you lot. On AO3, the link is viable :**_ _ **/2UZncAm**_

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 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Shepard met him when his shuttle touched down in the Normandy's engineering bay, wearing her armored undersuit and her uniform pants and boots, and not much else beyond. She looked tired, too, he noted. But not in the 'been fighting for days' kind of way, where the body broke down and soldiers saw each other cracking, but the _mind_ stayed together. She wasn't injured, he could tell that much from the form fitted bodysuit and the way she walked alone, but she was still beaten down. She smiled when she saw him, the way she always smiled when one of them walked up to her, but it didn't reach her eyes and make them shine the way they usually did.

"Hey, John." She gave him a quick hug that he returned with one arm, other hanging limply at his side. He wasn't a hugger, but he knew by now how physical a person Shepard was, so he let her have the few seconds before she bounced back and gave him a nod. "Good to see you. How were operations on Tuchanka?"

"Well enough, Ma'am. Needs improving, but my report explains that." And, it went without saying, she could get ahold of it if she wanted to. She more than had the clearance too, at any rate. "How did the… Public morale tour go?"

"I did interviews, worked with some planetary evacuation forces a couple times on plush missions where I didn't even need to fight anything worth a damn." She sighed and joined him in leaning against the shuttle's side while Cortez disembarked, stretched, and wandered around to check its engines. Arms crossed under her bust, she sighed and asked, "You know what I mean?"

"Yes." Doing interviews, overseeing the last legs of a small, unimportant evacuation to show it was important and slap the commander's face on it - 'If Shepard thinks it's time to run, who are you to argue?' was a running slogan on some sites - and a few skirmishes so the news reels could see her fighting. "Public morale is supposed to be important, Ma'am."

"Yeah, but- Ugh!" She threw her head back against the shuttle's hull, and waved off an annoyed Cortez face that poked around the engine over it, and then finally groaned dramatically. "I just want to be out there doing something to actually _stop_ Cerberus or the Reapers. Not play babysitter to the people who _are_ doing that stuff."

"I understand." He nodded, content to simply let her vent for the moment.

"I had to ask for this assignment, you know." She pointed out snappishly, angry at no one in particular and instead at the situation as a whole. "The board of vice admirals Hackett instated argued with him until they were blue in the face that I was 'too valuable in terms of public relations usage' to 'risk sending into armed conflict'."

"I know that too, Ma'am." He'd been told much the same by the man himself, when he asked to be deployed adjunct to Krogan forces against the Reaper leftovers on the other side of the planet. He was deemed 'too valuable' by the new admiralty board that Hackett was building with the Turians, the Krogans having opted for more ground command positions since they didn't _have_ a naval force. Remembering his first squad commander's favorite quote, he parroted, "The perils of fame and success, is not getting to do what made you famous and successful any more."

"Avers was a good squad leader, yeah. Always spouting that philosophical stuff..." She nodded, then grimaced and gave him an apologetic smile, avoiding his face and instead staring at the floor. "Sorry, John, I remembered him too and I didn't think-"

"Just life now, Commander." He didn't _like_ her being in his head, or him being in hers, or _Javik_ being mixed in for that matter. He strongly disliked all these things, but that was his life now. "It's the reality of the situation, Ma'am. Nothing can be done about it, so there's no point worrying about it. Marine saying, 'My job is to shoot shit, so if I can't shoot it, I don't need to care'."

"Your marines sound a lot like ours." She responded after a snort of amused laughter and a wry shake of her head, "Kinda hard to believe you would be part of such a testosterone fueled, bravado based thing as either Marine unit."

"You were too, Ma'am." He remembered it, remembered a couple missions where she'd piled out of shuttles while fire rained down on her and her fellows. The specifics were lost but he had images, like pictures, and short snippets that told him enough of the story. "It takes all kinds to make it work."

"Yeah, it does…" She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair and then went on, "With everything that happened with the Council, I don't know if we have enough to build up to fight the Reapers."

"What about that secret project, the Crucible." She gave him a look and he shrugged, tapping the side of his head with a finger, "I remember Mars, Ma'am. It's where we got EDI's body, and the Crucible plans."

"On hold, unfortunately for Liara's stress levels." She shrugged and sighed, but didn't seem _too_ upset by the news. At least, not in context, though _that_ might have just been how mentally fatigued she was effecting how she presented herself. "We're busy with construction now we've pulled out of Farixen, and we've allied to the Krogan and started settling planets in their space. New warships, transports, weapons, space foundries for them, drydocks… There's so much to build, _no_ credits for it in the nonexistent budget, and there's nothing we can do about any of it."

"Debts can be settled up after the war is over." Survival first, economy second, comfort whenever there was time for dealing with it. United Nations Space Command modus operandi, to the letter, and for good reason. "I heard the Reapers are tearing apart the Terminus Systems now, Citadel sectors."

"Yep." She popped the 'P' as usual, to emphasize it, and sighed, "Taken a third of it in the last three months already. And _gods_ , this war has been going on for a quarter of a year already..."

"Any idea why?" He asked, ignoring the length of the conflict purposefully. Another thing that couldn't be changed and so another thing he didn't care about, even if he hadn't come from a way that had lasted _far_ longer than that. "The Reapers _were_ assaulting Human and Turian worlds religiously, but they've backed off to attack the Terminus systems."

"If I had to place a bet?" She gave him a glance, eyebrow raised, as though waiting for him to answer her. Then she snorted derisively and gave a small shake of her head, "The huge political divide that happened with the Citadel Council _could_ spark into a war easily enough, and we already have a civil war with Cerberus to deal with. Terminus is full of battle hardened mercenaries-"

"Whatever ones that are left and haven't been hired by the Broker." He pointed out, if only to highlight the rare and minor silver lining to the situation. She smiled in appreciation and gave him a nod, so he chalked it up as a good plan. "Just thought it was worth mentioning, Ma'am."

"Yeah, but…" She sighed and gave her head a shake, voice small and weak the way it became when she was upset but didn't want to be _heard_ being upset. She always kept the mask up, he knew, to push confidence into her crew and team. Rare were the moments where, like now, she let that slip a bit to deal with her own problems. "I bet they're using it to build up Husks of all the varieties they can imagine, with the poor people that chose to live out there."

"Nothing to do about it right now." They didn't have the fleet for it, though he knew for a _fact_ that they would soon enough. "Do you know how fleet construction is going?"

"High command is being replaced, finally, and shipyards are being moved and built in Krogan space. Beyond that?" She shrugged unsurely and sighed, "I don't know. But we're holding Coalition space lines, now, and everything we need is being built behind it. So, I don't know, maybe?"

"We'll fight either way." He shrugged, turning slightly to look at her more fully, "On that topic, Ma'am, what's our next objective?"

"We're meeting up with a Krogan scout team towards the Perseus Veil. They were supposed to be tracking the Migrant Fleet's location, so we could make contact and discuss an alliance, but…" She grimaced and gave a shake of her head, pushing off the shuttle and turning to him more fully. "I guess hang out time is over with, for now. Was fun while it lasted, though… Joker? EDI?"

"Yes, Commander?" The ever-present, nearly omniscient aboard the ship, AI answered as instantly as could be expected.

"Access mission-command file GA-RC1 and route to attached coordinates. Send orders for Vakarian and Javik to meet me in the briefing room as well." She ordered sharply, the words obviously a coded command file of some sort. The AI didn't respond but they both knew the orders were being handed out, and she turned to him once again, "John, you're coming too. You'll be in command of Vakarian and Javik, I already brief _my_ team."

"I'm being given command?" He blinked, less surprised by it happening at all and more surprised about _when_ it was happening.

"You have the rank for it, and they're skilled operators." She nodded as they reached the elevator console, the redhead punching the call button and standing beside him to talk. "Javik is your Biotic artillery, Vakarian is your marksman and technical support. Unless you would like different squadmates?"

"No, Ma'am." Not only were they skilled fighters and complementary in skillsets, he was sharp enough to notice that they were two who he was closer to, relatively speaking, than anyone else. The elevator opened and he stepped into it with her, head turned slightly to speak to her as the lift rose, "What are the operation parameters?"

"Unknown, at present." She said quietly, adjusting the front of her suit around the collar with a hand, "Or rather, unknown beyond certain limits. But I'll get into it during the mission briefing proper, as short as it will be. Mostly, I want to use it to let you assume command of them properly."

"Acknowledged." He nodded, and the two fell silent from there until the door dinged open onto the command bridge, the galaxy map dimly lit and awaiting her input if the Commander chose to step up to it. "Ma'am, I _would_ like to ask what a Rachni is, though. Before the official briefing."

"Don't worry, my briefing will cover it." She waved the concern off and led the way around and to the right, the ODST laying his collapsed rifle in the holding tray and stepping through with the woman ahead of him. "Even though it's relatively common knowledge, at least for the most part, a refresher about basics around something is always useful ahead of an operation that's important."

"Understood, Ma'am." He nodded, stepping into the glass-walled conference room and leaning against the far wall to wait for the others, arms crossed over his armored chest, content to relax and close his eyes for a while. "I'll wait."

"Figured negotiating a little patience from you wouldn't be _that_ hard, you do _love_ your power naps." She snarked, the man ignoring her for the most part and simply enjoying the pseudo-nap.

Besides, he couldn't exactly _argue_.

He did like power naps, even when he had to stand to wait on everyone else.

"Several years ago Operator Vakarian and myself, along with a couple others unnamed for not being in _this_ operation and classification level, lead a raid on a Noverian experimental lab." Shepard explained quickly, arms clasped behind her hips and standing at the head of the table where Wrex once would have stood. To either side of her stood John and Garrus, with Liara and Javik further down the table, all dressed in their non-combats and mostly relaxed.

They were, after all, still two weeks off from their mission.

"Now, public knowledge is that on this operation, something was discovered being done illegally by Matriarch Benezia. Something that required the facility's mostly total destruction, unfortunately." Shepard continued calmly, bringing an orange, glowing arm around and pressing several buttons. From the ceiling, a blue hologram appeared over the table of a massive insectoid, four long tendrils expanding from its back, and she explained, "This is what was discovered there. It's a Rachni Queen, a leader in a sentient race of hive-minded insectoids the Krogan were uplifted to fight a war with."

"A war which led to the Genophage." Liara added helpfully, voice high and lilting in a way he was coming to associate with most Asari now. "They're psychic in some manner, as well. Able to puppet the fallen around them, though poorly, in order to communicate. Not to mention their ability to breed and survive in hostile environments only Krogan could even _assault them_ in."

"No kidding, they're why the Krogan were uplifted. None of the other species could keep up with their numbers _or_ their durability." Garrus added, mandibles clicking uncomfortably. At what, the Trooper wasn't sure, and the Turian moved on before he could dwell on it and let his curiosity run too much. "I remember right, she said she'd behave when we let her walk. What's going on?"

"She did say that and, by all reports, she kept her word. Until now, there've been _zero_ official reports or complaints about Rachni activity in the Terminus-bordering systems." She grimaced and, in a lower voice, added quietly, "However, according to Aralakh Company, they've been active since a month ago. Attacking mainly fleeing refugee ships and small support flotillas operating in connected systems."

"Any idea as to why?" Garrus asked, waving a hand at the Queen, "She's behaved so far. Why the sudden change from quiet and hiding to raiding and killing? Even the _Reapers_ shouldn't have known she was alive."

"Likely for food and resources, obviously." Javik offered simply, smiling in that condescending way he did. "Those _are_ the usual reasons that forces raid supply lines and the like, even among primitives and the Reapers. Are they not?"

"But why _now_ is the question." Garrus countered, waving a taloned hand at the insectoid's still hologram. Mandibles clicking in confused agitation, the Turian went on, speaking to Javik as much as Shepard, "She promised to behave, avoid people wherever possible. She's even _saved_ people, we met an Asari on Ilium a couple years back she saved. So why the change?"

"She mentioned when we… Encountered her, on Noveria, that the Reapers could control them." The Asari's pause told him of animosity left over from their 'encounter', and that drew some curiosity from him that he pushed aside for now. With a wave of her hand, the alien continued, "The Perseus Veil's adjacent systems are _near_ the Terminus, where the Reapers are the most active. A link is there, perhaps?"

"If the Reapers got the Rachni…"

"I know, Garrus." Shepard cut in with a heavy frown, shoulders stiff and worryingly straight. With a deep breath, she continued her explanation, leaning forward and resting her knuckles against the table to hold her weight, staring down the alien like she was _challenging_ it to argue with her. "When we encountered her, I released her. I wasn't about to genocide an entire _species_ , particularly when she hadn't done anything to anyone. And now that's coming back to take a chunk out of my ass."

"Perhaps you should not have released her, then." Javik accused quietly, spined brow raising, "If you were going to regret it later, that is."

"She made the right decision." The ODST surprised himself, speaking before he'd even fully thought about what he wanted to say. Blinking when several sets of eyes landed on, he sighed and waved a hand at himself, "I know what it's like to have aliens want to wipe out your species. And to have that translate to killing _you_ when you may not have ever even done anything to them. Everyone here should understand how that feels, now, with the Reapers tearing through worlds."

"I find myself agreeing." The Prothean offered gently, turning to the Rachni hologram and giving a small, quiet hum of unsurety. Finally, he sighed and nodded to the commander, eyes downcast and a hand over his heart respectfully. "I apologize, Commander. I spoke without thought and support your decision."

"Appreciated, but regardless, we have a mission." The woman brought up her 'Tool again and pressed a few buttons, a desolated planet replacing the Queen on the holo-display. "This is Utukku, a relatively small, isolated planet with a breathable atmosphere but rapidly oscillating temperature, very little water, and next to no major mineral deposits worthy of notice beyond basic metals."

She pressed another button and the display shifted to a map of a system, dominated by a gas giant and a wide ring of asteroids. "This is the system, which as you know, is near the Terminus Systems. Pirates and mercenaries often use asteroid belts like the ones present here to build hideouts and the like and so, according to Wrex, the _lack_ of any mercenary or pirate presence was an odd factor to the Krogan scouts initially sent. Rumors spoke of some kind of alien, insectoid in nature, holding the region."

"And Wrex knew about the Rachni, so he heard 'insect' and sent a team." Garrus guessed, the woman nodding simply at the question.

"Right. First he sent a scout team, which vanished. Then he sent a larger, more veteran one in to find out what happened." The Commander's eyes flicked to the hologram and she grimaced, giving a thin shake of her head and a sigh. "They also vanished, aside from a single transmission that made it out of system with one word in Krogan. It translated to 'Rachni here, good fight', loosely speaking. So he sent Aralakh Company, a team of the best fighters from over a prominent dozen clans. Which is holding with casualties for our arrival, they've established orbit in their ship and will land just prior to our arrival."

"For obvious reason, the Company _can't_ be wiped out during the operation. The diplomatic loss of face for Wrex, if he loses the best fighters from so many clans, would be to much to bear. It could put the Coalition on shaky foundations, going forward, with the Krogan clans." With a press of a button the holographic map winked off and she looked between each of them in turn. "Priority one, establish the presence of a Rachni threat, and evaluate what needs to be done about it. The Queen said, on Noveria, that the hive's offspring could be controlled but Queens often couldn't, so verify her status. She could be valuable."

"An almost inexhaustible army and a workforce working 'round the clock on construction on everything from the ground to warships…" Garrus whistled a clicking sound and nodded, "It would be a pretty great trade, if we could swing it."

"Exactly." Shepard nodded, a small smile breaking across her face for a moment before she slid back into her stricter mentality and mannerisms. "Priority two, then, is to defend and extract the Aralakh Company if at all possible. Vakarian, Javik, you two will be serving under the Lieutenant Commander to that end. Cover Aralakh leader and his unit as best you can."

"Understood."

"Ma'am."

"If I must."

"Liara and I will be supporting scout teams around the perimeter and clearing tunnels of Rachni, looking for the Queen. Our objective is extraction, if possible, or termination of the Reaper asset if not." She finished, looking to the ODST meaningfully, "You're going to be facing the brunt of the combat while we use you as a distraction and you protect the VIP unit. Will that be a problem?"

"Negative, Ma'am." He was used to distraction jobs and heavy combat operations both, though the addition and combination of a VIP _unit_ was a new one. Nothing he couldn't adapt to, though, he knew.

"Good." She nodded, leaning back and continuing. "You will all be issued anti-corrosive sealant for your armor, spread it _liberally_ over your armor. Rachni acid is highly corrosive and can send even Krogan warriors into shock. Either ending in death or a blood rage, it still means that it will _slag_ us all. You will also be issued shredder modifications for your weapons, _use them_. Rachni are armored lightly but mostly, their hides are susceptible to shredder rounds. Any questions?"

"What is the standing order if only the Krogan unit or the Rachni can be recovered?" Javik asked quietly, the woman grimacing at the question.

"There isn't one, there's too many variables. In that situation, I will make the call as I see fit. If I am incapable, John will." She answered sharply, the alien nodding at the simple response. "Anything else? No? Good. You are all to see to your equipment, rest and await our arrival in the Mulla Xul system. Dismissed."

With the rest of the team, he left, headed for his bunk to get to work on his weapon and armor, and then start resting up ahead of the fight. It was sure to be a big one, after all.

With Krogan, it always was.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **And thus the start of the short Rachnic Arc begins~**_

 _ **It will be a short arc, but one I needed in regardless for various reasons that will become clear. After this will be the Quarian-Geth arc, and then Cerberus before, finally, the finale arc. And unfortunately, a short chapter, because I initially intended to start the Rachni mission in this. But then I realized the first chapter of**_ **that** _**I want would make this way too bloated with nothing happening until a cliffhanger at the end.**_

 _ **Not a good payoff.**_

 _ **XD**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **7th Maniac :**_

 **Yeah I've worked hard on the krogan culture. Is complicated, so took time, though. But yeah, broken telephone and everyone talking about the crazy bullshit he pulled, with just krogan sources for info.**

 **Not a good scene for a guy that likes napping.**

 _ **Asari guy (Guest) :**_

 **That will come in the Cerberus Arc, which is after the Quarian-Geth one after this micro-arc.**

 _ **MEA Is Good :**_

 **No, I'm not.**


	21. Chapter 21

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

_**Official Supporters:**_

 _ **Grand Priestess, Luna Haile -**_

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 _ **Priest, The Impossible Muffin**_

 _ **Priest, Xager the Chaos King**_

 _ **Acolyte, Victus**_

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 _ **Acolyte, Espacole**_

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 _ **If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our discord. Server ,.for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, and remember to post a Review/Comment to let me know what you liked and didn't.**_

 _ **So, Fanfiction will not let me link to discord. So, I apologize to every single FF reader for this, but please PM me for a join link. And please consider doing so, I enjoy chatting with you lot. On AO3, the link is viable :**_ _ **/2UZncAm**_

 _ **If I could trick FF into thinking this is not a link here it is (delete the spaces and turn):**_

 _ **D iscord . gg (slash) kfhkfUb**_

 _ **Betas for this story so far :**_

 _ **Don Spazzer**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Getting to the system was a lengthier, _riskier_ endeavor than one might at first assume. It was days spent flitting from planet to planet with the thermal enveloping online, trapping the ship's heat inside the vessel's armored hull, preventing it from leaking into space and giving whatever enemies might be around a heat signature that could be tracked.

Crossing a single system took days, once or twice, waiting for planetary orbits to get close to other bodies so they could rapidly vent the Normandy's built up heat straight into the planet's gravity well and then jet away, hiding in the gravitation and thermal shadow of a planetoid, asteroid, or whatever else they came across that could mask their presence. A dozen times, they could see Reaper or even Cerberus ships in the distance or on ladar systems, and _once_ they had even seen an allied fleet limping away from one while the Reaper destroyer leisurely picked off the ships one after another.

Morale had lowered on seeing _that_ , even further than days sweating in the heat of the ship had. But the crew were disciplined and skilled, and so did their duties regardless of what they saw in the black depths of space. Knowing it wasn't their call helped, though, he was sure.

"I just… Wish there was something we could have done." Shepard finally finished, sitting in a little chair she'd _carried down_ into the hold he used as quarters, plopping into it backwards and spinning lazily in slow circles while he worked on his gear, still dressed in her bodysuit and pants. She'd changed, he knew as much from the minute difference in her pants now, so he supposed she was just a bit more comfortable this way and had decided to stay dressed as such.

For normal comfort or the use of keeping her cool in the hot ship, he wasn't sure, and pushed it aside when she started talking again, belaboring her anxiety in an effort to relax it. "I mean, I made the right choice. I _know_ I did. It just… I don't know. You know?"

"Feels like the wrong one." He finished for her, only turning enough from his improvised work table and broken down rifle to catch her nod. "Nature of the beast."

"You mean the war, or command?" She sounded like _either_ answer wouldn't please her, and for once the ODST was sad to say he'd have to disappoint her.

"Yes." He grunted simply, shrugging when the woman groaned. They fell into silence after that until, finally, he decided to address the elephant in the room, "Why are you talking to me about this? I'm not the most sociable one on the ship, and I don't know how to deal with these kinds of… Problems."

"Mostly?" She shrugged, "Garrus is checking weapon systems before we make final approach, in case there's any Rachni air power to contend with."

"So I'm the spare?"

"I mean, you said it, not me, Rook." She smiled so he knew she didn't mean it and, theatrically and for her benefit, he rolled his eyes in amusement. Only half faked amusement, he realized after a second, before he shook the thought off. "I'll get over it, just needed to vent, you know?"

"Hm." He nodded, the woman's pouting face sliding into view in the corner of his vision.

"You're doing the 'sounds as sentences' thing again, John.." He turned and she reached out with a hand to thump him on the forehead with the back of a knuckle, glowering at him all the while. "We talked about this. Remember? You don't get to be all quiet and closed off, you know it's better when you aren't."

"I don't-"

"I _saw_ you with the Krogan, John." She cut him off, poking his forehead and wheeling back across the floor with her feet, wheels clacking quietly on the metal floor. Grinning at his grimace, she took his hesitation for the chance it was and went on, battering down his defenses and defiance with her hard evidence. "I saw how much happier, more relaxed, you were with them. You were more open with them, talked more and more often. You _proposed things_ , John."

"I like them, the Krogan are… I like them." He shrugged, turning back to his weapon, working slower to clean the pieces before slotting them back together in a beautiful jigsaw puzzle of death. Sighing, he moved on to the firing mechanism, scanning each piece twice, once with his eyes and once with his 'Tool, as he explained. "The Krogan are hard, honest and have been fighting for their existence for centuries."

"You empathise." He nodded and the woman seemed to understand, nodding herself and dropping the subject entirely. Instead, she asked in a quiet, curious voice, like a child afraid to upset her parents with a question that might be unwelcome. "Do you… Miss home? Your universe, or, uh, whatever the terminology actually is, I mean. Do you miss it?"

"Hm." Did he? He wasn't sure, really, if he _did_. His old galaxy and this one were both war torn, full of hellscapes, and every step had a real chance to be his last equally. But… "I don't know, Jane. I will always wonder what would have happened to me there, what happened to _my people_ too, but I'm not there. I'm here."

"In a new place to call home?" The question was gently phrased and softly said, the woman probing him for his reaction carefully. Like a ship navigating a minefield, wary that each wave broken could mean their ship falling to ruin.

"Maybe. Don't know yet, really." He shrugged unsurely and, understanding him by now, she let the question drop entirely. For a moment he considered asking why she bothered having these strange conversations with him but he knew she did this to _every member_ of their team. So he let it go and instead asked, "How long until we reach Utukku, Ma'am?"

"Touchdown tomorrow morning, around oh-seven-hundred, on the planet." She answered clippedly, straightening and stretching in her seat as she internally switched gears and slid into her commanding persona. "The Krogan will be on the ground, and the scouting flotilla will be hiding in the system's asteroid belt to avoid eyes. The Normandy joins them and we take a shuttle down to Utukku, where the Krogan have established a forward operating base on the planet."

That meant thirteen hours to rest, eat and finish his kit's mandated upgrades for the fight on the planet…

"Understood, Ma'am." He gave her a curt nod, adding in a polite and hopefully firm tone, "I'll need the time, Ma'am. To get ready. If you don't need me for anything, Ma'am."

"Fine, fine, I can take a hint. _Sometimes_ , at least." She grinned at a joke he didn't understood, or ask about, and stood. One hand snaked around the head of her chair and hoisted it onto her shoulder and the other gave him a mock salute, the woman grinning at him and taking a couple steps back and away. "See ya out there, _Lieutenant Commander_ Doe."

He sighed and considered tossing another barb at her, likely about how _she_ had had him promoted so _she_ didn't get to poke fun, but instead just turned back to his work quietly. Which, from her pout, he knew was a better stinger than anything he could have ever even _tried_ to retort with.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"It's dead, the scout flotilla managed to kill it when they jumped in-system with only moderate casualties." Shepard assured them when they convened on the Normandy's engineering deck to file into the shuttle. "It's dead, but it's there. Which means two things. Point one," she raised a finger to count them off for the armored soldiers around her, both the specialist teams and the Marines who'd gathered in case they had to be called down to the surface as well, "the Reapers have a presence here, in this system, and on that planet. How bad, we don't know."

"Two," she continued, looking between the soldiers to gauge their responses to the first revelation, "the Reapers will realize their frigate was destroyed. Those are used for transport, so they _will_ notice when the Rachni don't show up like they plan. Or maybe another transport frigate will show up and see the dead one, if it's cyclical."

"Either way, the bastards will have ships showing up soon enough in-system." Garrus filled in from the lines of soldiers, standing beside him in his armor and with his hands holding the front of his carapace armor. "So whatever we're doing down on the planet, we have to do it _fast_. Unless we want to try getting past a Reaper fleet."

"Exactly." She nodded, "Which means we land, get the objectives handled, and _leave_. Nothing fancy, nothing that needs us to stick around, we get in, get out, go home. Understood, troopers?"

A chorus went around the engineering bay in various forms and shapes of 'yes, ma'am', and the soldiers started to disperse. The Marines filed away to standby positions around the 'bay, weapons held across lightly armored chests while they idly, _anxiously_ , talked amongst themselves. And he and the specialist team filed into the shuttle, one by one taking seats around the craft's interior. The fit was tighter than any would have liked, and he wounded up pressed in one one side by Garrus, and the other by Shepard, all three holding their weapons in their laps and exchanging snipes and barbs at the proximity.

The ride was short, the Normandy and scout flotilla both tethered to large asteroids at the edge of the asteroid belt near where the planet was at this time of year. A brief few minutes of nothingness as they sailed through the dark void of space, before the violent and brief tremors from initial reentry, followed by the final gentler, persistent rocking of the wind buffeting the shuttle as it descended through the layers of atmosphere towards the surface. At one point, for a minute, the sounds of hail could be heard as they passed through high altitude storm clouds, flush with frozen water collecting ahead of the eventual rain to come. For many soldiers, this was a time of stress, anxiety and worry about the number of things that could go wrong.

For the ODST, though, this was barely even noticeable, and for a moment he considered closing his eyes.

"On landing approach. Brace for maneuvers." Cortez warned them quietly, voice crackling over the intercom and echoing in their headsets, redundancy at its finest, as the craft listed to the side. A few more seconds passed and the shuttle _shuddered_ gently as it hit the dirt and stone below, engine noise fading to a weak, idle whine. "Clear landing, Krogan waiting on us, and nothing on either radar or ladar systems. We're green."

"Rook, you and me are first out the door." She called out as she rose from her seat, hunched over slightly while he followed behind, a hand on the small of her back in case she tried to stop and so she knew he was following her orders. "Friendly faces for the Krogans out there, make a good impression. Vakarian at the back, and helmet on. No one out there wants to see your ugly mug."

"Hey now, Commander, you _know_ I'm beautiful." He snarked back dryly, snorting in amusement as the shuttle fell silent.

"Shepard!" The Krogan voice cried before the shuttle door had even fully raised, a silver hulk shooting past him fast enough to startle him, a hand on his Carnifex at his thigh warily. Instead of an enemy, though, it was just a large Krogan warrior, crushing the woman in a massive hug that had her feet dangling and hands awkwardly patting his sides. "It's so good to see you, Shepard! It has been too long."

"Grunt… Dying." She wheezed, helmet protrude from a spot between his shoulder and head and wiggling back and forth. "Freedom… Please… Life… Slipping away…"

"Bah! As if a simple Krogan welcome could actually hurt you, Commander!" Regardless, the Krogan warrior _did_ let her down, the woman staggering only slightly but reaching up to pat the alien's massive head after a second. He rumbled pleasantly at that for a second before standing and turning to the other soldiers around him and her, grunting, "Vakarian. Your face still split open if someone tells a joke?"

"Grunt. You still let your mom give you head pats?"

"Oi, I'm right here, you assholes." Shepard chided loudly, voice telling him she was smiling under her helmet. Sliding into her job, something he could see from the straightening of her shoulders and back, she asked in a clipped, no nonsense tone. "What's the situation, Grunt? We saw the dead Reaper, so I'm assuming Reaper forces are in the area?"

"Scattered 'round the planet." He turned, thumping away into the wide, ramshackle camp and waving a hand for them to follow. They did, and Grunt made sure to speak loud enough for all of them to hear, voice booming over a din of camp life that silences as they passed. "We get scouting parties and raiding groups around our perimeter, but Aralakh Company is made up of Krogan raiders and warlords willing to fight out here. They don't do anything to us 'cept serve as target practice."

He could believe that, looking at the Krogan they passed, returning their respect filled nods one after the other. Their armor was all fine, for Krogan standard anyways, with thick, heavy plating covered in scars both new and old enough to have been painted over. Their weapons were equally battered and old, and random as well, from longer, slimmer looking Avenger models to heavy, red weapons he recognized as Revenants, and everything in between. Many sported melee weapons as well, a couple carrying the massive Biotic hammers wrex had told him about and others carrying different ones. He saw jerry rigged swords of what looked like armor plating and old, heavy pipes as well as massive chain swords, single handed war axes, a glaive of some kind with a telescoping handle, and _one_ even carried a heavy slab of armor with a handle welded onto the back, a white and black Eviscerator hanging off the back of his waist.

And, he noted with surprise, the Krogan sported a helmet with a front visor and sectioned plating that looked like his own, albeit shaped to a Krogan head rather than a Human one. The front of the shield, he noticed as the heavily armored and scarred alien moved towards them, was painted with his symbol in bright red streaks on the front.

"Urdnot." The warrior greeted, sparing a nod first for the two 'Urdnot' and then for him, this one deeper. "Maw-Singer."

"Kralt Tartog, my lead assault trooper for obvious reasons." Grunt explained for their benefit as he returned the gesture, the heavily armored warrior returning his gaze to him and letting his shield rest on the ground. "Report. How are the wounded warriors? Can they fight?"

"No, Battlemaster, they are not. Most will need days to rest before the acid wounds are healed enough. Not a kind of time we have to wait." They'd had skirmishes already, then, which explained the sounds of maintenance echoing around them. Damaged armor and worn weapons, being tended to as best they could be in the brief rest in the moderately safe camp until the next fight started. "I think it's best if they go back now, to the flotilla, to have their wounds tended. We could defend them here, if the camp were more secure, but it isn't safe here even _if_ we could spare the Krogan."

The camp was certainly not safe, made of two large prefabricated buildings set to either side of the small canyon leading up to a section of a third, vanished into a hole at the back of the camp, and little else of note. Nothing more than a forward base to plan and rest in, for a moment, between one fight and the next.

"Shepard-"

"They'll have to cram in, but use the shuttle we came in." She cut him off, stepping forward with a small nod for the armored soldier. "It's rigged for stealth running, so you should be fine. Get the worst wounded aboard, get 'em out of here."

"Battlemaster?"

"Do as she says, Tartog. Commander's shuttle, Commander's call, end of the day. Was gonna ask her anyway, so whatever." Grunt grunted and shrugged, the other Krogan pounding a fist to its breast and turning to trundle heavily away without another word. Turning to speak over his shoulder, the warrior grunted, "Entrance to the cave system where the Rachni are comin' from is over here. Blew a little hole in, they heard, so they dug up the ground around it and dropped the building the scout team built in, looks like."

The sinkhole was massive, easily thirty feet in diameter and twice that deep, the other half of the prefab building at the _bottom_ in pieces, a couple Korgan bodies mixed into the clutter. On the opposite end, a cave entrance had been made by the collapse and explosions, and in there was where he _assumed_ the infiltration team would be headed to find the Queen. By themselves, of course, because the Commander didn't do a damn thing the _sane_ way. That wouldn't be fun, he was sure she'd say.

"We'll rappel down, into the hole, and head through the cave system." The woman explained, kneeling at the edge of the crater with her Avenger held in front of her, relaxed but ready to snap up if a Rachni soldier showed itself. Or anything else besides, of course. "You said the scout team before us mapped them?"

"Suicidal bastards, those Uncured can be, when somethin' gets rougher than they'd hoped." Grunt sighed, shaking his great head and then nodding. "Yeah, they marched in with sonic grenades. Little blue things, Turians made 'em. Radio central over there," he gestured to one of the standing, occupied buildings with a dismissive wave, "read the sonar, mapped the tunnels. That leads to a big cavern in the middle. Same as ours."

"Then everyone knows their jobs, so let's get to it." A chorus of assent went off around her and he turned, following the dozen Krogan left fighting for Aralakh Company away from the tunnel, towards their own entrance on the opposite end of the camp site and past the hole.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Two of the Krogan drew short straws and had to stand guard over the entrance outside, to cover and protect the exit from ambushes and help them retreat when the time came, but the rest descended into the cave system in pairs of two. He and Grunt took lead, his VISR system allowing him to see better than the Krogan could in the dark with only their gun and helmet mounted lights and the odd, bioluminescent slime and fungi lining the caves to see by. Behind them, Tartog followed, heavy shield perfect for them to fall back behind if trouble came running.

Navigating the caves and tunnels was, relatively speaking at least, an easy going affair. The ground sloped gently or was flat, save the edges where the rounded passage curved up, and as an unnatural system made by the Rachni, lacked the spiked stone of stalactites or stalagmites to impede their journey. Instead, all they had to worry about for some time was the ooze on the walls, which was slippery to step on. Like oil, or blood.

"Eyes." He called back, rifle snapping up as his VISR highlighted a still mass on the ground a half-dozen feet ahead of them. His flashlight, and rifle beside, on it they closed on the thing and he sighed, kneeling beside the dead Krogan and asking Grunt, "Scout?"

"Yeah." He sighed, looking at the _half_ of a Krogan they'd found, rifle melted beside him and innards strewn from the base if his chest a foot down the cave. There they saw his legs, wearing the same melted black armor he did. "Acid burns, obviously been eaten some, and there's nothing 'round here that could overpower him."

"Rachni, then."

"He died good, did some damage before he went down." The Krogan gestured at his weapon, or more accurately the inch of what looked like a bayonet left on the bottom, to illustrate his point. "Got that in the bastard. Cut him good, hehe… Like a Krogan."

"What color do Rachni bleed?" The Krogan grunted at the question and the Rookie nodded his head forward, down the tunnel and past the lower half of the fallen Scout. Bright orange drops continued past, disappearing down the tunnel further than their lights could reach. "Unless you think this guy walked all the way up there..."

"Hm." The Krogan grunted but didn't answer, standing and waving a hand forward, heavy, blocky Claymore held in both hands and his wicked bayonet glinting from his flashlight.

Following the trail and the tunnel both, they came to a split in the tunnel system. Two separate passages, each one leading down and then turning to the side where the light from their flashlights ended. Grunt joined him, kneeling at the crux of the passage and using his VISR to look down both in hopes of seeing something more than stone, glowing ooze, and the trail of blood that went down the left passage and vanished around the corner.

"Krogan survivors or the Rachni that got him back there went that way." Grunt said shortly, pointing the jagged blade he sported down the left side of the tunnel. Then he turned and pointed down the right, adding, "The first main cavern is that way, though."

"Which means?"

"Down the other side is just more tunnels. Waste of time goin' down there, and the sonics stopped goin' off a week ago. Computer up top said they had a dozen spare, too, so they'd have used 'em." Or come back up, if the job was done well enough to not need more, he didn't bother to add. Grunt would already know something that obvious, surely. "So we go right, much as it pisses me off not to be able to avenge my men."

"The scouts were yours?" He'd assumed they were separate.

"Yeah, forward operators for Aralakh Company. All the battalions that use cured Krogan have scouts and assault units made up of Uncured ones, so the species stays secure." He rolled his shoulders with the explanation and then turned, barking orders, "Tartog, Grantal, forward. We're approaching the first cavern, so get your flamethrower hot, Grantal. Tartog, don't get burned by it again, I'm not draggin' your ass out of here."

"Yes, Battlemaster." The two Krogan chorused in response, the shield carrying warrior sliding by to the right entrance while the heavily armored Krogan came up behind him.

His armor was different as well, with heavy armor sections that were thicker on the front and sloped, like the top of a roof. So that liquid, like napalm or Rachni acid he guessed, would slide more easily off. His helmet was heavy too, with a thin visor that stretched from eye to eye and heavy tubes that ran back from the top of the helmet where they'd be safest to tanks of air on the backs his shoulders, a thicker tank with a caution symbol for fire on the front hanging across his waist. Now, those two lead them, the heavy shield carried in front of Tartog warily while Grantal's flamer hissed quietly in the silence, aside from heavy footfalls and equally heavy armor shifting. He'd done marches like this before, but…

Why was he so on edge _now_?

The tunnel ended quickly and opened up into a wide cavern, with roughly hewn walkways between four deep, cool looking ponds of fresh water. Massive, obviously Reaper, cables webbed from the ceiling to the ground, ending in several eight foot tall, three wide pods covered in spikes. Small insects flitted about, crawling on and around it, but Grunt was quick to order them burned.

"Rachni worker drones. Gotta burn 'em out or they crawl all over you in the middle of a fight, spit and burst acid." He explained while the pyro-Krogan worked, scorching the machine with reckless abandon and laughing while he did. Once Grunt was satisfied, he ordered the Krogan back and on to the next of the three, another Krogan covered in heavy pouches lumbering forward to plant bombs on the thing. "Weird, though."

"What is?" He asked, VISR pinging around them, looking for motion that wasn't the swarms of scurrying bugs that the Krogan were watching closely.

"Where are the Warriors?" He asked lowly, raising his shotgun and letting the barrel rest against his shoulder, pointing across the room. "Only one tunnel out, and this looks like a water source. Insects need 'em. So why isn't it guarded? And where are the dead scouts?"

"It's a trap?" He guessed as he pinged with his VISR again, but saw nothing around them beyond the scurrying workers. Eyes narrowed, he held up a hand to silence Grunt who, looking offended, fell silent while he turned, pinging again and again. "My VISR system isn't detecting the ooze or the Workers any more. Something is blocking my VISR detection."

"Battlemaster!" Grunt turned to an armored warrior, shuffling forward with a damaged little cylinder, made of black metal with a red button. Scratches were scored across it, as well as acid burns. "We found it by the far exit. It looks to have been set off there to map the area, but these are not Krogan scratches."

A second passed before Grunt's eyes narrowed and he looked around them, bellowing, "Krogan, circle up! Prepare for a-"

Around the roof, several sections of stone finally gave way to the Workers' efforts, massive slabs falling away and crashing to the ground and water below. Krogan warriors scattered, one crying out in anger as he tried to run and was crushed by a massive slab of stone, dropping their force of Krogan to seven aside from Grunt. From the half-dozen holes, Rachni swarmed from the holes, some with bulbous and orange bodies and guns mounted to their sides and others with sleeker, brown and black bodies, sections of metal and wires mounted to their heads no doubt controlling them.

It was a trap indeed.

And they'd walked right into it.

' _Oh well'_. He thought as he turned, rifle snapping up to send short lances of fire up into the holes, shredder rounds tearing chunks out of the Rachni there. One fell far to the ground with a shriek, splattering acid and blood when it hit. He didn't wait to confirm the kill, slamming a boot down on top of a Worker than skittered towards him and then booting the crunched bug away before finally sliding his sight to the ground, blasting a hole the size of his head in a tendril-covered Rachni Warrior's side until he could see through it, and the Krogan it had been mounting to kill threw it off his back with a defiance filled roar.

Instincts screaming at him he spun on his heel and sank to a kneeling position, tendrils whipping by where his head had been, and came face to face with a Rachni Warrior. It hissed in anger and, calm as though he were simply getting a drink, he brought his Harrier to bear and bored a hole through its head until he saw the cave on the other side and it slumped to the ground. Two more like it scuttled to either side and he rose, backing away and sending long bursts through them as well while his other hand retrieved a fresh Clip from his belt. Kicking aside another Worker he pulled the almost entirely spent Clip from his gun and hurled it into the face of another Warrior, reloading while it shrieked in pain and then killing it.

"Sand-Swimmer!" He turned, a hammer crushing a fourth Rachni behind him, to see a massive white-armored Krogan behind him, covered in blood both his own and Rachni and bleeding from a dozen small wounds. He hefted his hammer and turned his back to him, laughing loudly in the cacophony of the battle, "I will take your back, Sand-Swimmer! You will be safe with me, on my honor! For I will die before you."

He was used to dogged fighting in close quarters, and traps besides, so he leaned against the warrior and brought his rifle up.

 _This_ was his element.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **7th Maniac :**_

 **Glad you're enjoying it, and I almost didn't give a taste of the combat at the start and instead left the cliffhanger with the falling slabs of stone. Changed it at the last minute to be nicer, and give a bit of payoff. Feet First into Hell indeed.**

 _ **Predator 1701 :**_

 **Have another fix, then, eh?**

 _ **Grape Fanta :**_

 **Do I? I confess to some apprehension there, I am not too practiced with those kinds of characters.**

 _ **Adoravke :**_

 **They will meet, I can confirm that much at the very least.**


	22. Chapter 22

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

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Admiral Hackett was not a 'nervous' man, but as they transitioned through the Aralakh Relay into Human space, he would have been lying if he'd said his stomach wasn't doing its best impression of a ballet dancer.

The _Everest_ shuddered gently as it slowed to a halt, ME fields halting any inertial damage that otherwise would have sheared their ship in two like so much foam. Around him, the first jump-wave of the Coalition First Fleet dropped out of their own jumps, its four dreadnoughts venting heat and lumbering forward to cover the smaller, lighter armored dozen destroyers and trio of heavy carriers, which warily spat out a contingent of fighters and bombers _just in case_ a Reaper flotilla was waiting in ambush.

The fleet was, as the name suggested, a coalition fleet of the representative races and what they could bring to the table. With the exception of the larger dreadnought allotment, large for having Hackett _and_ the highest ranking Turian naval officer in the fleet's command structure. The destroyers, though, were almost purely Turian, with only a single Alliance ship in their numbers, owing to the fact that while Turian destroyers were stronger, more heavily armored, and thus better for _combat_ , Alliance vessels favored speed. As a result, Alliance vessels had been broken up into fleets of rescue flotillas, each with a Volus designed carrier like the ones with them now to support them.

However, the First Coalition Fleet was an _attack_ division, not a relief one heading out to the shattered, scattered worlds to save civilians and bring them home to Aralakh. Or, at least as 'home' as they were likely to _get_ , really. Until Earth and Palaven were retaken, at any rate, though that was likely to take some time.

"Sensor suite is showing all-clear, at least in the immediate area, Admiral." The operator in front of him reported, lithe Turian shoulders bowed as she worked at the monitoring terminal. "Debris at oh-four-fifty, fifteen degrees elevated above us, and Alliance in appearance. Mixed with Turian ships and civilian, the latter of unknown design."

"The rescue flotilla, then. Damn it." He grunted, sighing and pacing back and forth on his command platform, glancing at the soldiers around him and the consoles they worked at, watching like a hawk for any minor blip that might warn him of something. Glancing at the ladar station his eyes narrowed and he stopped, barking, "Ensign Lowe, check your console."

"Aye aye, Admiral." The woman, an old veteran of the Terminus systems and their mercenary fleets but an ensign here by rank, if far higher in experience to explain her posting _here_. On his ship. No more than three seconds passed, the ladar system noting the ten more destroyers and twenty escort frigates that dropped in behind them, venting heat while she responded, "Appears to have been ME field interference, Sir. Likely due to proximity to other vessels and Relay usage."

"Hm." He grimaced, watching it waver again before turning and pointing a finger at his communications officer, "Signal ping, system-wide, right now."

"But sir, that would-"

"Execute my orders, chief." He barked, looking back at the ladar and growling, adding in a loud tone while the man worked in dutiful silence, "Gunnery officer, warm up our main batteries. Secondary officers, coordinate formation Gamma-Delta, ready status red."

"Aye aye, Sir." The woman called back, a dozen feet ahead of him but clearly audible in the disciplined silence of the ship.

"Let me be wrong, Lord. Please, let me be wrong." He prayed, almost silent enough to not even be _audible_ to his own ears, watching the ladar like a hawk. That was the relay back into Aralakh system, so if the Reapers were here and trying to lock it down, it meant they knew their plans, or that they were planning _something_.

Given how public he'd had to make everything, to get he manpower he needed for the rapid reindustrialization and remilitarization of the demilitarized zone, that had been a risk that simply _had_ to be taken.

Around them, the three destroyers adopted a spear-point formation with his own in the back and on the top, a Turian dreadnought taking the fore of the entire formation. Behind that, the carriers moved into position, spilling out the rest of their fighters along with a score of drones, both of which swarmed ahead of the fleet, drones ahead of fighters and waiting there for further orders. The Destroyer fleet then surrounded the carriers defensively, using the bodies of their very ships as a circle of kinetic barriers, outward facing batteries and armored hull for the lighter armed ships to hide behind. Inside that circle and between the dreadnoughts, the destroyers, dreadnoughts and carriers all hundreds of feet apart for this purpose, frigates of Krogan retrofit designs, Turian escort flotillas and Volus anti-missile ships at the center of the formations filtered in to add more to their bulk.

Like a spike, bristling with guns and swarming fighters, the fleet moved forward and away from the relay. _No one_ wanted a battle near it, inhibiting their movements and threatening to rip unprepared ships apart if they ventured too close in the combat, after all.

"Sir, contacts." He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste the iron in his blood to avoid swearing, letting the man finish his report. "One Sovereign class Reaper in the asteroid belt, thirteen signatures accompanying."

"Ladar?"

"Five signatures identified by friend-foe recognition tags, Alliance vessels sporting minor exterior damage, sir." His officer called back, nearly lost amid the calling of orders from lesser deck officers to their subordinates, bringing weapon systems online faster than their red alert status had already commanded and coordinating the fleet's movements as a single body. Hackett's ears were sharp and well trained, though, maintained by genetic tailoring from his ground pounding days. "Rest are a mix of destroyer and frigate signatures, Admiral. All sporting minor damage."

The Alliance ships were without a doubt from the lost relief flotilla, likely crippled in the fighting and then boarded, their occupants forcibly indoctrinated to augment the Reaper forces in the area.

"All ships, adjust formation to Cohort Zeta formation." He ordered, knowing that the Sovereign class Reaper would be the real problem, the Destroyers able to cut through many decks easily but unable to at least _predictably_ annihilate their heavier tonnage ships in a single blow, unlike the heavier capital ships. Though their separate fingers could dual target each ship, and destroy them easily _then_ , it was still a better tactic than other options. And with only one Sovereign class to command, he knew that the Cohort style would work best for the coming skirmish. "Five hundred kilometer dreadnought spacing, standard support ship allocation."

The dreadnoughts moved first, his slowing and rising on on the Z axis, pulling back into a commanding position of the fleet as a whole. The other three arrayed themselves in a row in front of him, the Turian admiral's ship in the center with the vast majority of the destroyers and the carriers, the entire section pulled back slightly from the fight to incentivize targeting the wings. Or punish ships that moved to the center, firing into their flanks as they advanced, though Reapers were somewhat infamous for not caring about casualties by now. Only three frigates stood in the center forward dreadnought formation, pulled back to provide anti-fighter and anti-missile support for the dreadnoughts and destroyers.

As a mirror, two destroyers joined each flanking dreadnought, with the rest of the frigates left over from the two command sub-fleets. The fighters in this formation filled the gaps between each lesser cohort. Like the wooden spikes the Romans this formation had been largely taken from used to defend against the Carthaginian and desert pachyderm units, guiding them into the wooden spikes and stabbing into their flanks as the beasts charged through the easiest path they could see.

From left to right, the fleets were designated cohorts Beta, Charlie and Delta, with his command fleet designated Alpha.

"Designate former-Alliance vessels as priority target, followed by Reaper frigates and then the destroyers." The Alliance ships were doubtless the worst damaged of the group moving from out of the asteroid belt and towards them, recognizing the fleet redeployment for a reaction to them. "Put those poor bastards out of their misery, and send some Reaper ships to hell for taking them."

They, to the last, deserved _far_ better than to fester and come apart at the Reapers' macabre hands.

The Reapers seemed more than happy to allow his men and women to do as he liked, too, sending the stolen craft into the middle of their formation and ahead. The Reaper frigates trailed behind, clustered in small defensive pods of ships around the destroyers, and the Sovereign class hung at the back. Sacrificial pawns arrayed in order of preference for the sacrificing, and obviously so as well.

"Ladar officer, confirm this is the only Reaper presence?" He asked, watching the ships loom closer, headed into range of the forward ships and thus allowing the gunnery officers to coordinate the rear-most ones for a volley shot. Seeing their closeness, he added, "Gunnery officers, continue coordination and fire when ready. Flight coordination officers, once the Reapers reach one thousand kays out, I want our drones screening theirs. Superiority fighters follow at eight hundred."

"Negative contact for five hundred thousand kilometers in any direction, all axes." The Ladar officer replied, adding after a second, "Detecting more debris four hundred thousand kays out, though, other side of the asteroid belt. Movement patterns and a lack of standard or Reaper ME fields suggest destroyed ships."

"Residual ME readings?"

"Consistent with recent combat, Admiral." The officer reported, "Beyond that, I can't tell. Not at this range and without diverting power, or drones, to the area for closer inspection."

"Sir, forward dreadnoughts preparing to fire heavy mass accelerator cannons." His gunnery officer reported, the drones swarming ahead of the ship lines and towards the Reaper fleet.

Thousands of red lances of energy cut through the black of space towards his drones, flicking in short arcs that cut apart the armored drones like butter. Explosions like pockmarks issued out, silent in the void, before he saw the distant, barely discernible tracers of automatic fire from the drone's light machine guns. More explosions issued forth as drones on both sides lanced into each other in sacrificial plays to whittle down numbers before their masters actually began to fight.

Finally, his superiority craft met the Reaper fighters, interceptor craft snapping out of formation in pairs to hunt and kill the Oculi swarming in space, pushing past and towards the Coalition lines as best they could. Gunships followed into the fight, behind the interceptors and more basic fighters. Each was slower and more heavily armored, a wide shaped like an upscaled Kodiak, but sectioned into three decks and fitted with enough energy generation to power the eight light GARDIAN lasers that lanced out to send pinpricks of light blooming in the void, ripping missiles and Oculi out of existence interchangeably. On each deck a ball-shaped gunner's nest had been situated at the center of the deck, a GARDIAN laser to either side to protect it, and these belted rounds at any ship that strayed too close for comfort. Between those and the superiority wings, not even the swarming Reaper fighter craft could claw an edge in the combat.

Then their frigates and destroyers reached the fighter lines, and began picking off leading interceptors and fighter craft and popping the heavy, slower moving gunships respectively. Hackett didn't hesitate to raise his voice and order, "All fighter craft, withdraw to fleet formation position. All ships, fire when targeting solutions are acquired. One hundred kays, weapons free."

The only answer was an 'Aye, Admiral' from his gunnery officer, followed quickly by a gentle tremor through his ship as his prow-mounted cannon fired. The dreadnoughts matched the fire, able to target at this long range unlike the smaller cannons of his fleet's lesser ships, and a moment later missiles followed from the Volus-designed carriers, who carried with them long range space-torpedoes. The four leading Alliance ships buckled under the mass accelerator fire, cracking and breaking apart with muted explosions and sparks as their cores ignited. The torpedoes, those that survived the Oculi at any rate, cut down the last remaining former-Alliance ships and the old admiral murmured a silent prayer for the lost men and women, and hoped all hands had been kept aboard.

Better death at their hands now than service as Husk infantry against civilians later.

"Fleet, ahead full." He ordered, standing on his command platform with his hands clasped behind him. "Broadcast this message, comm officer." He waited a moment for the officer to nod, and spoke clearly and concisely, "All hands, we're moving to engage a Reaper force. This is the first real skirmish of the Coalition navy. Make the prices we've paid to build this alliance worth it."

In range now, his destroyers began to open fire with their three minor mass accelerators, coordinating all three on one target in tandem with two other destroyers. The shots slammed home, only a few straying away or deflecting off the Reaper's angled ships, but only a few of the multi-limbed vessels took significant damage for it. And only _one_ actually went down, the shots straying onto the same section of the destroyer and overloading the kinetic generators in the area, the plating underneath not able to stand up where its shields failed.

He leaned heavily on the railing that lined the front of his command platform and watched as the enemy targets loomed ever-larger, massive beams of red carving through the void of space and ripping his ships apart.

"Sir," his fleet liaison officer called, damage reports no doubt crackling in his ear, "Four frigates destroyed in initial volley, as well as one destroyer. Two more destroyer class vessels too damaged to fight, withdrawing to rear. One confirmed Reaper casualty."

Now the brawl began, the two lines of ships intertwining as GARDIAN lasers on both ends carved hull apart, missiles shot at less than a hundred yards into each sides hulls, and beams of red death pulsed at his ships. A destroyer, fingers splayed like a hand, slammed its belly onto the Beta fleet's dreadnought and squeezed, deck sections buckling and venting atmosphere alarmingly. Bombers from the Volus bomber corps zipped out of formation behind their carrier without orders, fifty of them hurtling towards the enemy destroyer while its defensive lasers lanced out to carve them apart.

Fifteen died en route, and another five as they peeled away, but their bombs slammed home in the side of the vessel. Two of the massive 'fingers' fell away on its left side, the dreadnought under it seizing the opportunity to make a hard maneuver to follow them and pull down while the semi-sentient warship listed and tried to recover. A hundred yards away, every missile pod aboard still functioning pelted it with missiles, and GARDIAN lasers followed suit.

The destroyer died along with two others, the forward dreadnought's Thanix cannons lancing into the charging Reaper ships and boiling their armor away until their deaths. Spectacular deaths at that, hunks flying off in a rainbow of explosions and flashing barriers failing. Frigates and destroyers funneled through the killbox and his Thanix joined the others, bright blue bolts of power slamming home alongside mass accelerator rounds ranging from anti-capital ship batteries to anti- _fighter_ batteries all, desperate to kill each ship.

As the first wave died along with a third of his fleet, he raised his voice again, "Fleet action, all ahead full. Aim for the Sovereign class."

Dutiful and brave, each and every ship moved to do its job, ignoring their dying brethren around them. And ahead of the tooth and claw brawl, he could only breathe deep and brace himself alongside his men and women all.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Ragh!" He ducked as his hammer-wielding partner spunnin, crackling with Biotic force that he sent cascading out across the cavern. Rachni caught in the rhythmically thumping energy wave were hurled away in bloody hunks of metal, carapace and metal.

Kneeling on the hard stone of the cavern floor, he brought his rifle up and sent short bursts of almost soundless rifle fire into the few Rachni struggling to rise, the sound lost in the cacophony around them, and turned to send fire back the way his partner had been facing. "Haha! A real and true challenge for us at last, eh, Maw-Caller?"

"Hm." He didn't answer, instead rising and sending bursts of rifle fire into more charging Rachni warriors, taking the half-moment of peace to check on the battlefield at large.

Like them, the other Krogan and his own team had broken into pairs and trios, fighting back to back against the Rachni to seemingly great effect. Fire, bullets, spikes, from Graals that hurled Rachni away to pin them against walls or each other, and biotics that ripped the ground and aliens apart like confetti and lit the cavern in a variety of colors. His VISR system then tinged them all a pale green, showing him his team's exact positions across the cavern, fighting with Grunt himself against a massive warrior Rachni covered in thicker armor sections.

Javik ripped hunks of meat and carapace off with green tendrils of power and Grunt charged, breaking the formation and _crushing_ the monstrous alien back easily. It fell back and to the side, and Grunt shoved his Claymore into its bloodied side where armor had been ripped away, sending it to its grave with heavy shots.

Free of the Warrior's interference, Garrus turned and looked across the cavern, Mantis barking loud shots off in turn, sending Rachni falling from the walls around them as they tried to crawl down and blasting hunks off the weapon-mounting ones.

He took it all in inside a few seconds and chided himself for even _that_ lapse, turning back to his own fight in time to bring a foot down on one and then two Rachni Workers. He kicked their bodies away so the acid couldn't erode the stone he stood on and lifted his rifle, gunning down a Warrior charging the nearest Krogan formation and then bringing his rifle up as it collapsed in a bloody, sliding mess, pouring fire into one of the tunnel openings as more surged forth form the holes, including a second of the larger, more heavily armored Warriors. They looked like the brown ones in most ways, he noted quickly as it hissed and moved, but each stood taller and larger than them, their armored carapace plates ending in spiny spikes.

He didn't get a chance to fire on it and test the armor, a _missile_ slamming into it with a loud roar of fire and fury, the stone ceiling rumbling threateningly overhead as the tunnel they had been using collapsed. The reaction cascaded for several feet to either side, rock caving in on the Rachni inside and sealing the way. The red-armored Krogan with the Hydra-launcher turned, surrounded by three other Krogan as bloodied as he was, and sent more missiles into the other tunnels in turn, firing until they collapsed as well.

He blinked and, in that moment, felt something _slam_ into his side with a roar and _whump_ of fire, sending him cartwheeling through the air. He landed in a pile of limbs and armor a foot away, too winded to do more than grunt, and rolled onto his back to see another Apex Warrior charging towards him, four spike covered tendrils whipping angril and side bleeding profusely from a dozen wounds, its head bowed to angle its armor defensively.

A tactic that worked quite well, his rounds almost exclusively deflecting off its carapace as it charged, only rearing up when it reached him, intent on impaling him with its forelegs poised above him to come down, even if he _did_ kill it.

An electric ball of energy the size of a bus slammed into it and shoved it back, his hammer wielding ally roaring as he lifted the Rachin and carried it to the far wall, the creature hissing and stabbing its tendrils and forelegs into him all the way. The Krogan warlord slammed him home against the stone hard enough he could _feel_ the stone quake, and reared up above it with both arms, bringing them down again and again until it had been broken and left a fleshy, bloody mound on the ground. And just like that, the cacophony faded into only the disparate blast of shotguns and the dying hisses of aliens trapped with their opponents.

Heaving and bleeding from a score of fresh wounds across his body, the warlord turned to him and nodded, "Sand-Swimmer. Are you hurt? You're on your feet, so I would imagine if you are it is not so terrible."

"No." He grunted, accepting the offered hand up when it came a moment later and ignoring his flaring side. His rib was broken or fractured, he could feel it, but it wasn't enough to slow him so he rolled his arm to get used to it and asked, "Are you hurt?"

"This?" The warrior waved a hand at the bloody furrows and punctures in his side and the lighter sections of his armor, barking a laugh and looking around them when the ODST nodded. "This is nothing, Sand-Swimmer. Tickles and love pats all, those Rachni aren't worth any more that _that_ sadly, haha! You took worse at the Hammers, did you not?"

"Technically." He nodded. He'd been shot through twice, if memory served, and his body was technically less durable than a Krogan's, after all. "Is the fighting over?"

"For now, the tunnels are sealed after all." He turned, Grunt trundling up to him with a satisfied smile and his chest and shoulders covered in blood and grime. Javik joined them a moment later, significantly _cleaner_ but no less tired or satisfied looking than the Krogan leader. Grunt gave the alien a need and continued on without pause, "They'll be diggin', though."

"We need to move." He spared a glance to look over the Krogan and Garrus, two of the former checking the deployed charge son the Reaper cores and a third dragging corpses aside to clear a path in case they needed to run back the way they'd come. None looked wounded enough to matter, but it was hard to gauge with Krogan, so he asked, "Is everyone in fighting shape?"

"Hm?" Grunt turned, bellowing, "Vakarian! Your prissy, Turian ass good to keep going or do you need a break? Maybe a nap?"

"Suck on a talon, you space dinosaur!" The Turian shouted back, looking over his Mantis idly and watching the tunnel further in with an eye. Satisfied, he traded it out for his smaller rifle and shrugged. "I'm good to go, you momma's Krogan. So unless you need another head pat from Momma Shepard-"

"We move out in five!" Grunt cut the Turian off with a huff, grinning in spite of his feigned agitation when the Krogan around them chuckled. Quietly and more serious, the Krogan asked, "Are you good to go? I saw that hit back there. There's a reason the Council used us to fight the Rachni, they hit like a Krogan hopped up on Ryncol."

"I'm fine." He grunted, ignoring the burning in his side easily out of habit. Grunt simply nodded and turned, headed away to a cluster of bloodied Krogan to check in on them, grunting, laughing, and clapping their shoulders excitedly. Taking the moment of silence, Javik stepped closer to him and he asked, "What is it?"

"These creatures are mere animals, attacking in hordes and sacrificing themselves almost eagerly. Animals." The ancient alien pointed out dryly, waving his hand at the tunnels they'd had to collapse to break the trap they'd sprung. The other held his particle rifle, hanging comfortably at his side and hissing heat, his borrowed rifle on his back sparking gently from damage it had taken. "Yet they staged such an ambush. How?"

"Hm." Reaper forces, and these were _certainly_ augmented by the Reapers judging by the bodies being piled in the water, an effort to poison the liquid and stall Rachni growth if they failed to kill them all. Even the more natural, bestial forms had circuitry and augmentation on their skulls, and he gestured at one a couple feet away meaningfully, "Do you recognize these sorts of implants?"

"Yes, I saw them during the fighting." Javik scowled, then, his spined brows furrowing in agitation and disgust. Moreso even than normal, his lips pulling back and teeth bared in a bestial, nearly, snarl of rage and hatred. "They are similar to those used in my time, on a lesser species thralled by our empire. A Reaper was always near enough to control them, but there are none here."

"Then what is commanding them?" He asked quietly, the Prothean humming his agreement with the question as the Krogan lumbered towards the far tunnel, forming up once again. "Time to move, Javik. Are you hurt or-"

"Rachni!" The cry was guttural and, more terrifying, came from _behind_ them, one of the Krogan they'd left outside stumbling through and sinking to his knees. Grunt was quick to move towards him, John following close behind while the exhausted alien stammered, "R-Rachni and Reaper infantry, they broke through the rocks around the tunnel entrance. Arvak stayed behind so I could warn you, Battlemaster."

"Damn it! Krogan, form up. Get those charges checked, we need to get out of here!" Grunt snarled, turning and raising his armo up, Omni-Tool flickering on. "Shepard? We've lost our surface access and are descending rapidly. How's your end?"

He didn't wait to hear the response, instead taking a poisition to the side of the tunnel to wait on the Rachni. He didn't need to wait long before he saw the first hint of movement, long and sharp legs trundling into view, and sent fire up the tunnel. The Warrior tumbled and snarled, leg flying off from a lucky shot, and was then crushed under the feet of its fellows as Garrus joined him, Phaeston roaring to life from the other side of the tunnel. Next was the pyro-Krogan from earlier, who belched flame up the tunnel and added to their destructive potential, keeping the insectoids at bay. A minute passed before, out of nowhere, another Hydra missile shot past hem and up the tunnel, caving it in and covering them in dust as it did.

"We go deeper and through, exit on the other side." Grunt grunted, tossing the Hydra back to its owner and jerking his head towards the far tunnel. "Plant more charges, we're collapsing this cavern completely."

No one pointed out that that could cause a larger cave-in, but everyone knew it. Still, the Krogan handed out charges and began planting them around the base of the cavern. And, inside a couple miinutes of quiet work while he and his team watched the colapsed tunnel and Grunt watched the other for Rachni, they were done and back in formation again, descending deeper through the rock tunnels once again. They walked for what felt like an hour in tense silence, gunlights snapping around every curve of the tunnels warily and weapons hissing, humming and thrumming with life as they walked.

The Rachni, though, seemed wary of fighting a force of heavy infantry primarily armed with close quarters weapons in a _tunnel_ , though, and so they progressed in peace for a time. Only pausing when they encountered side-tunnels their maps showed weren't useful to them, and collapsed them with explosives, biotic attacks, or just crushing blows of melee weapons.

"Spirits…" Garrus murmured as they exited the tunnel, fanning out and glancing around themselves warily.

At the end of the tunnel was a massive underground cavern, the tunnel itself letting out on a ledge that went on for unknown distances in either direction with a dozen feet between itself and the sheer wall on the other side of the underground fissure. High above them, another fissure had opened up in the rock either by natural means or Rachni needs, and far below them they could hear the sound of water unning rapidly. Dozens of holes dotted the cavern around them, easily discerned by the black holes left in the sea of brightly glowing blue fungi that crawled over every surface around them, like a forgotten world in an old cartoon from his childhood back on Earth. Though this one was torn by massive mechanical tendrils that spider-webbed around and across the cavern high above above them all.

It was strangely beautiful, he thought, looking around the cavern more in quiet awe, searching out anything important to the mission. Finally, he pointed his rifle off to their right and gruned, "VISR readings show a structure that way, Grunt. Two stories, just around the corner, judging by the electricity running through the cables."

"Shepard's down there." Grunt added by way of answer, jerking his Claymore down, the cliffs to their left slowly sloping down into the earth. The other, he noted, sloped equally gently _upwards_ , and grunt took note of that as well. "Exit that way, probably. Lotta flats that direction, after the mountains. Would be a good troop pickup point, eh?"

The situation was obvious, made even more so when shrieking echoed around the cavern and the Krogan snapped into a tight, shoulder to shoulder formation. From every hole - and there were at least a hundred of them - Rachni crawled out, these almost exclusively the barely augmented Warriors and the buzzing swarms of Workers surrounding them. Like his fellows, he took to snapping off bursts of fire, sending Rachni screeching into the cavern below, knocking their fellows down with themselves as they went in threes and fours.

"Rook!" He turned, pausing in his fire to meet Grunt's eyes, teh Krogan pointing down the passage, "Take your clan-kin and your team, and get down there. Meet with Shepard and get headed this way. If we're all gonna die down here, we should do it together, at least! Haha! Krogan, show these beasts your rage!"

"And you?" He asked when the tremoring roar died down, the aliens now fighting somehow harder than before. The Krogan's only answer was a vicious, toothy grin, and the ODST accepted it. Turning, he shouted out above the din of flamer fire, rifle fire and Biotic explosions, "Tartog, Vakarian, Javik, with me. We're rendezvousing with the Commander down below. The rest will hold here, to delay and guard our exit."

"I obey."

"Sir."

"As you bid, Maw-Caller."

Tartog took the front position, the other three in a line behind him, as they charged out of the Krogan defensive formation. The massive, armored warriors stepped aside fluidly, guns spewing fire and fury in every direction matched by biotics and flame. One cried out as a Warrior scaled the cliff under it, tendrils puncturing his knees. The ODST caught his orange eye and saw a certainty spawn there, the warrior hurling aside his weapon and gripping the Rachni warrior in one hand. Then it lept, grappling another as he fell and catching more intheir flailing bulk as they descended and, inside a moment, vanished.

Sorrow and purpose filled his veins unbidden and he turned his head forward with the next footfall, rifle snapping up as he loosed a torrent of rounds in short, controlled busrts into the Rachni ahead of them. Beside him, Javik grunted and three tendrils of power snapped out, spearing into Rachnin and hurling them from the wall on their left _through_ their fellows and into the ravine. Tartog cudgeled a hissing Warrior aside as they charged, the creature slamming into the wall beside them before his shotgun ended it. With a warning cry, Garrus loosed a concussive shot to not be outdone, the round flying high and striking a stone that fell with the Warrior on it, crushing four of the insectoids under its weight.

They continued their charge like that, bashing, crushing and hurling aside Rachni, or letting them fall on limbs broken by pinpoint shots.

"Ragh!" He staggered as Tartog stumbled, blood flying from his side as one of the Prime Warriors scaled the wall, tendril whipping back covered in orange blood.

 _Krogan_ blood, he realized as he stumbled by and the creature leapt, Tartog's shield coming around for it to land on. He turned and loosed a torrent of rounds into the creature's side, sending it sprawling across his kinsmen. The warrior pushed it off and slammed his shield down, trying to stand as three more Warriors came up, one sporting the artiller pieces so many had been fitted with. At point blank range, it snapped off three shots.

The first struck his chest and hurled him back against the stone, his head _cracking_ back hard enough his ears rang. The second scorched into Tartog's shield and hurled it aside, and the _third_ sent the Krogan sprawling in a mess of bright blood, a strangled cry of pain, and a rolling arm. The limb thudded to a stop against the wall, and he saw the gauntlet, the arm within painting the grey stone around it vibrantly. Saw the hammer and claws on his own armor, and looked to his kinsmen. The Krogan tried twice to rise, armor and chest blown open, before a Warrior leapt on him and buried its legs in his chest with a sickening _schlick_.

Once again, he met Krogan eyes, this time through a broken helmet. This time he spoke, coughing a, "Don't do it-"

Without a fury filled roar, the Korgan shot up and slugged the Warrior on him aside hard enough a leg snapped off and it went sailing into the ravine far below. The artillery-Rachni tried to draw a line again, but Tartog ripped the limb embedded in his chest free and impaled it through the face, kicking out hard enough to hurl the creature _across_ the ravine and into its fellows on the other side, a dozen Rachni falling to their dooms below. The third evaded his awkward, sidelong punch, ducking under and lunging up, burying its baw in the softer flesh under his shoulder and burying tendrils in the Krogan's stomach and neck.

Undeterred, Tartog ripped its tendrils free and then belted a punch into its skull, crushing through chitin and its innards both easily.

"Go!" The Krogan bellowed as Workers crawled across him, his one hand awkwardly swatting them away as the alien twitched, Blood Rage taking hold. The ODST refused for the moment, rifle scoring through two more Warriors and then whining for a fresh clip, and Tartog bellowed a second time, "Go, Kralt John! I will hold here, for as long as I can, but you _must_ leave!"

"He speaks the truth, Lieutenant Commander." Javik snarled, teeth bared and stained with Rachni blood as his Prothean variant of Biotics roared and his body steamed, his energy slowly burning away the mildly acidic blood. "We must go!"

Snarling, the ODST turned and ran, slamming his shoulder into a Warrior that got in his path and kocking it back with a cry of pain as his shoulder flared. He turned, hopping backwards as his rfile ended the creature and then turned back, running as fast as his burning lungs and battered body would move.

And cutting down any and every Rachni that crossed his path, of course.

"Rook?" Shepard called out as they staggered to the base of the path minutes later, the Turian turning and watching behind them, rifle cracking once at a Warrior that had followed. The woman and her team joined them, covered in burn marks, claw marks and a variety of colored blood, and she asked, "What are you doing here, John? Where is Aralakh company at?"

"Holding our route out, Commander. I was sent to rendezvous." And taking losses, he was sure, though he didn't say as he looked around. More pools of water and Reaper nodes dotted the area around them, massive cables spindling along the roof and converging in an enclosure of stone in the center of the area. Nodding his head, he added in a clipped tone, "The Reaper cables converge there."

"The Queen is there, secured by those cables." Liara was the one to answer, sounding tired but looking no worse for wear than Shepard did. Kneeling beside a Reaper terminal, her arm glowed orange and she went on, face lit in hues of purple from the light, "We're working on releasing her right now, in fact."

"You left the VIP team?" Shepard snapped suddenly, sounding less angry and more shocked. He nodded and she asked, waving a hand back the way they'd come, "Why would you even _think_ that was a good idea? What about the Krogan? W-What about Grunt, he could-"

"Jane." Garrus murmured, cutting the woman off adn stepping between them, a taloned hand reachin gout to settle on her shoulder. The woman met his eyes through her helmet and he spoke, voice gentle but firm as he did, "They'll be fine, holding is what Krogan _do_. We just need to get the Queen and get out of here. _Before_ they run out of ammunition, preferably."

"Liara?"

"Done, Commander." The machine whirred and sparked and then, overhead, the cables _shifted_ violently, some breaking free of the stone entirely and falling away.

The quintet stumbled away as massive steps carried the Queen forward, a leg as long as a school bus and half as thick ripping up stone as it stepped into the clearing, body _smashing_ aside rock and metal both as it did. The Rachni Queen was shaped and designed much like the Rachni Warriors themselves, only a hundred times as massives and lacking almost any metal attachments. Where they'd had implants, her carapaced, sloped head was bare and clean, though scarred with claw marks and the tell tale pocks of bullet markings, scored across her armored hide. A hundred arm thick tendrils whipped behind her, lashing at and ripping out metal spikes and cables, the creature shuddering as her blood flowed and she freed herself.

"They were trying to slowly indoctrinate her, and keeping her trapped within her tunnels until they could, churning out Rachni for the war effort." Liara explained, the alien bowing its head low to the ground and looking at her with multiple sad eyes. Eyes he could swear were filled with gratitude, and that made the Asari swallow and look away in anxiety, "She will need a moment to remove the metal that they were using to bind her."

"But she's clean?" Garrus asked, loudly enough that the Rachni matriarch trilled in sorrow and fear.

"I melded with her and confirmed it, yes." the Asari answered, the Rachni trilling loudly in pain as a spike as long as he was tall was pulled from her back and tossed aside. She stood and shuddered, entire body stretching as sections of carapace pulled away and breathed for the first time in what had to be weeks. Liara nodded at the trill the alien sang, turning to the Commander, "She's ready to move, now. And her connection to her broken children is restored, enough to have some effect."

"Hope you caught your breath then, boys." The Commander grunted, stepping past them and raising her rifle, "Because we're headed right back up for my baby boy, before he gets into something momma can't fix." Glancing to the Queen, she asked in a loud voice, "You don't have a problem with that, do you, your majesty?"

The alien only trilled in answer and they formed up, the massive creature following them sluggishly up the stone ramp, still wounded and slowed for it.

The Rachni had a mix of reactions to their presence, some shrieking and attacking, others fleeing before them like the devil itself was behind them, and still more writhing in pain and smashing themselves against walls or hurling themselves off cliffs as they marched by. The Queen trilled sadly as they went, no doubt the cause of their insanity, and soon they reached the Krogan.

"Shepard!" Only six Krogan remained, now, surrounded by gore and the dead on both sides. The casualties included, sadly, the pyro-Krogan, half of whom lay at the edge of the cliff, smoldeirng lightly. Still, Grunt beemed, covered in gore but moving to hug the Commander regardless and only pausing when he saw the Rachni with them. "Ah. Found the bitch, eh, Shepard?"

"Your unit?" She asked, casting glances around them warily and worriedly, skimming over the battered Krogan.

"Krogan lives have certain… Risks." He shrugged, giving her a nod and stepping back, jerking his head up and towards the exit. "Let's get out of here, Ma'am. I'm starving and dying for a tank of Ryncol rigth about now."

"Are we safe, Queen?" Shepard asked, the alien trilling and bobbing its head at the question in a yes motion. Nodding curtly, the woman turned on her heel and _slammed_ a punch into the ODST's stomach, shoving him against a wall and jabbing a finger at the Krogan dead, Grunt's eys widening at the strike. "You were supposed to guard teh Krogan, John! What were you-"

"Hands off the Sand-Swimmer, Human." The hammer-wielding Warrior rumbled warningly, weapon thrumming with power as the woman's head snapped to it, Grunt glancing between the Biotic Krogan and the Commander in shock. "He fought as a Krogan, and trusted in his battle-brothers. Had he been here, the dead would number the same. All died for running out of ammunition save our pyro, whose tank was breached by acid."

"You should have stayed at your post, John." She added quietly, releasing him and sighing, shaking her head gently as she stepped away. Hands held up in mock surrender, she added, "I'm sorry, okay? I… Don't do insubordination well. That's all. Tends to get my men very dead, you know?"

"It won't happen again, Commander." He nodded, pushing off the wall and letting the matter go. And she had a point, insubordination - even for good reasons - cost lives in the field, and he should have known better even with his command position. "I should have followed orders and stayed with the Krogan. I don't know what came over ma, Ma'am."

"Mhm." Her tone implied she didn't believe that, and he'd get an earful of her 'theories' later, but she gave the flabbergasted Grunt a nod. "Time to get the hell out of here. Hackett's either going to love this or court martial someone..."

The journey to the surface, while not a peaceful one by any means or imagination, was at least somewhat safer with the Queen rending the minds of the Rachni they encountered.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Admiral." Shepard snapped a salute as the hologram sparked to life, eyes narrowing on the man's worn looking face. Even in holographic form, the ODST beside her, in his battered armor like Shepard herself was sans their helmets, he could see the disheveled, worn way the uniform hung off him. "Sir, are you… Alright? Is Aralakh system under attack? If so, I can return within-"

"I'm fine, Shepard." The man interrupted her gruffly but smiled as well, standing in loose parade ease like they themselves were. Sighing, and seeing the hard look in the woman's eyes, he explained in brief, "Aralakh Relay, on its exit point into Council Space, went quiet. I led the First Coalition Fleet through and we encountered a small Reaper force. Only a Sovereign strong, with a wider support fleet."

"Casualties?"

"More than acceptable, Commander. You don't need to concern yourself with Aralakh system while you're out there getting us more tonnage to throw around." He assured her gently and firmly, the woman nodding understandingly at the words. Satisfied she'd been placated, the man turned sharp eyes on their attire and asked, "I suppose you made contact with the Rachni and Reaper forces, then?"

"The Reapers had occupied the planet and imprisoned the Rachni Queen, Sir." She answered clippedly, "They bound her badly and forced her to breed Rachni young, which were then implanted with controllers that paired to dampeners in her 'cell' to override her ability to communicate with and control them. The scout flotilla the Krogan sent ahead also encountered transport Reapers, so it's likely they had been harvesting Rachni warriors for some time."

"So the Rachni are on-side, then?" Shepard nodded and Hackett made a sound caught between a sigh of relief and disbelief, and mixed with curiosity. "I'll get the word out then, so we don't have any problems here in Aralakh with her. We'll probably give them a moon to settle on, assuming Wrex allows it."

The old Warlord would allow, John was certain of that much. The Rachni were simply too potent as armies and construction support to consider refusing, and the Krogan knew better than to let old grudges ruin decisions today.

"Aralakh Company?" Hackett turned to him, now, and he blinked in momentary confusion at the question. Seeming to understand, and patient beyond what should be expected, the Admiral explained for him, "You were stationed with them in a sub-command role. You're here to report on their status, Lieutenant Commander Doe."

"Half the unit was wounded on arrival, and evacuated Utukku to the Normandy and then the Krogan flotilla." He began simply, finding his feet as he spoke, adapting to the role as quickly as he adapted to anything. "Aralakh Company, under command of Urdnot Grunt, proceeded to march into the main hive entrance as far as we could discern it. In the first engagement, three Krogan were lost and our return route collapsed to prevent Reaper-Rachni pursuit. We discovered an underground cavern, likely somewhere between natural and Rachni-made, and Aralakh Company volunteered to hold the position to secure the Queen and Shepard's escape while I went to find her with my clansman."

"Your clansman?"

"Yes, Sir. Kralt Tartog." His fist curled behind his back and Shepard saw it, giving him a concerned, sidelong glance. He forced it to uncurl and gave the woman an assuaging nod, continuing, "Upon our return to Aralakh Company, all but six remaining Krogan had been killed in action. Eighteen standing forces remain, considering the evacuated wounded previous."

"You left your post to find Shepard?" He nodded and Hackett frowned, "That was dereliction in the loosest sense possible. I trust you had words for that, Shepard?"

"I punched him in the stomach." She nodded, the old man snorting in amusement at the image that must have conjured. "Sir, officially, I want it on record I report against a dereliction charge of even the lowest degree. He secured a position and moved to secure a war asset."

"A judgement call, then." Hackett checked, the woman nodding quietly. "Understood. Then I will note it as a poor judgement call and nothing more, as per your recommendation as his superior officer. Now, the Rachni?"

"En route with Aralakh Company, headed for Tuchanka for reassignment." She reported clippedly, "Requesting permission to move on to our next objective, Sir."

"No rest for your men?" The man didn't seem surprised at the request, but had to ask regardless, he was certain.

"No time for rest, Sir. We need the Quarians, if not the Geth as well, for the war effort. Their construction and expertise in reusing old components is a must, here. There's dozens of fortifications in Aralakh system that could be useful with the right hands to bring them up to par." Old shipping stations, formerly civilian transport nodes, Tuchanka based fortifications long since needing repair and retrofits, and more. "Besides, we're in the system, and my unit is still combat capable and willing."

"Very well, Commander." Hackett nodded, "Head into the Vale and see what's going on. Best of luck, Shepard."

"I didn't say it down there, but I will say it here." Shepard started once the holographic Admiral winked out of existence, turning to meet the man's eyes. "I'm sorry that I punched you, I shouldn't have done that. Just let the moment get to me."

"I understand, Ma'am." He did, really. Between everything that had happened the relatively minor flub on his part had pushed her a bit, and she'd lashed out. Far from the perfect soldier the Extranet sold her as.

"We good?" She spread her arms, asking for another one of her hugs, and smiled. After a second he sighed and stepped into it, letting her squeezed him warmly and grunt, "We're good."

"Hm." He didn't respond, but didn't need to either. She lifted him into the air in a hug until he grunted and gave the side of her stomach a pat, and then she let him down and he asked, "May I be dismissed? I would like a nap before I set to work on my equipment."

"Yeah, yeah, go get some rest." She clapped him on the shoulder and he turned, headed for the elevator and - after a sigh- changing his mind on where he needed to go.

"Ah, John." Chakwas smiled when he entered the medical room, turning her chair to smile up at him expectantly. She set aside her datapad and her smile turned chilly and oddly knowing, looking him up and down for wounds. "So, what did you break _this_ time, John? Not a leg, given you walked in her one your own."

"Fractured a rib, I think." He answered shortly, already regretting coming to see the smiling woman.

"Ah? Then get that armor off and set it over there, I'll help you sterilize it from the Rachni acid too once we tape you up." She stood and, with a nod, he began doing as she commanded while the woman tinted the windows. Why, he found out after a moment when he set his weathered, trusty chest-piece in her gloved hands and she remarked dryly, "Ah, and we can have our therapy session, since you're here already, while I get you treated."

"Hm." He turned an eye on the door, and it glowed a warm red as soon as his eyes landed on it for a moment before flickering back to green. A clear threat against any escape attempt, and enough that he turned back to the woman.

"Thank you, EDI." The woman called, the veteran soldier sighing sufferingly and continuing to remove his armor.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Okay yeah, Shepard smacked John for doing a dumb. He left her 'baby boy' - reference there if anyone catches it - in a bad spot, and did so against orders to boot. And given their standing among 'Krogan' a slug makes sense, in the situation and with everything going on. It will come up again later, so don't stress it,**_ **and** _**she didn't hit him as hard as she could so he wouldn't get hurt.**_

 _ **Remember buckos, Paragade Shepard. She punches people when she feels they deserve it, even if they are friends.**_

 _ **She also headpats Krogan warlords.**_

 _ **You know, normal Shepard stuff.**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **That One Clone :**_

 **Yeah, noticed it later. Betas have been busy of late, so some things have fallen through cracks. Thanks, Google Docs autocorrect feature. You're** _ **useful**_ **.**

 _ **Jack the Sparrow :**_

 **Tried to model it after that, actually. That you received it is a good shout, I feel.**

 _ **7th Maniac :**_

 **Her 'baby boy' matter of fact.**

 _ **Enji-Benjy :**_

 **The fight there was actually meant to be a taste of** _ **this**_ **chapter. Some action sprinkled in at the end, after the briefing, transport, unit meetup, mission plan phase, etc. I aim to make this story as down to Earth as possible. Er, down to Utukku, I guess? Whatever, you get the gist. These things are part of that and like their stealthing across systems and how I explained that, this is just that. And besides THAT point, merging this chapter into THAT chapter would have been a fifteen thousand word chapter. Which is thrice the old style's regular amount, and nearly twice the new format I use.**

 **I just can't handle that, currently.**

 **Also, space-based ladar functions differently in ME than planet-based. They measure the laser reactions to heat dispersal, since those image at further ranges and with less intensity lasers. So non-intense in fact as to be hard to discern from normal background radiation unless you** _ **know**_ **to look.**

 **However, Reapers** _ **can**_ **detect them, as demonstrated earlier in the chapter when Reapers respond to ladar and broadcast pings.**

 _ **The Real Mason Mac :**_

 **Negative. His entire arc is finding a new home and settling into it. The UNSC returning would… Kind of break that a bit.**

 _ **Raptor 010 :**_

 **XD**


	23. Chapter 23

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

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 _ **Betas for this story so far :**_

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

On the Krogan - now Coalition - side of the Relay, Admiral Steven Hackett sat aboard the _Everest_ , watching from the viewport, watching the massive gouge in his ship being repaired from the battle a few days prior. A Reaper capital ship could easily destroy even an Everest class dreadnought, if it scored a direct hit, but he and his admirals all knew that perfectly well. Which was why he'd made the hard call and had destroyers and frigates body blocking any shots directed at their dreadnoughts, to preserve the firepower only dreadnoughts could carry. So when the Sovereign class in the battle had angled towards his ship, ignoring the shots ripping it apart from either flank, he'd not even needed to _order_ a destroyer between them. The round still impacted, the smaller destroyer unable to absorb it all, but was mitigated and warped enough to only carve through several decks and then rocket off into space, never to be seen again.

' _A destroyer and a few hundred lives on both ships, just to mitigate damage… Ridiculous.'_ He sighed and shook his head, sipping shortly from the little shot glass of bourbon he'd been gifted by the Primarch days prior. He really shouldn't have been drinking while technically on duty, but, well… ' _It would be insulting not to drink it. And we can't risk diplomatic relations, now can we?'_

Idly, he turned and looked beyond the skeleton of the shipyard's other half, towards the Relay itself. Two hundred kilometers out from the Relay, New Arcturus sat, a tenth finished now and swarmed with the boxy little construction rigs that space based workers used for heavy construction. Around it, more of the heavier exoatmospheric rigs moved a huge section of hull into place, built on Tuchanka in chunks and then spaced to be assembled into one single piece of reinforced exterior hull and then tugged to the station proper.

The sparks and lights of hundreds of workers vanished behind it as they angled it into place, a hundred more workers sparking along the edges of the massive, sloped plate of white armored hull, working to fix it into place. Along the spine, where the massive oval of the station's shape would divide, he already saw a tenth of the fighter hangars alight with lights. Inside, he knew, was a pressurized storage area where Alliance, Turian and the rare Krogan fighters pilot were waiting. Ready to pounce on anything nasty that came through the Relay. The center of the station was dedicated to that, hangars for fighters and bombers both whose job it was to defend the station, and for incoming shuttles for transport.

Even as a skeleton, it looked like an egg split down the middle, metal yolk spanning between. But Turian design was Turian design, and while the aesthetic left something to be desired, the craftsmanship was absolutely undeniable.

In a world of 'it would do' it was more akin to 'it would _hold_ ', and that was the best compliment he could pay it. Battlestation armaments, senatorial administrative wings on one corner, military high command on the other, and a science wing on the bottom, New Arcturus would be better defended, larger, and more important than ever before.

Nothing to compare to the Citadel in size, but… In a few decades, as things were, it would certainly compete with an arm.

"Sir, the Krogan scout flotilla has arrived. Awaiting permission to Relay into Aralakh system." His VI informed him, the man grunting an affirmation and turning to it, appearing in front of his desk in the Alliance office. The orange holo-man explained further, "The flotilla reports that its guest, codenamed 'Hive-1', has produced a small group of assets and seen too repairs to the ship en route. As such, they report ship-readiness for continued operation and await orders, Admiral."

"Clear them to jump through, order them to move to location theta and await formal inspection. And to offload wounded and be ready to take on supplies as well." He ordered shortly, already thankful that the Rachni were on-side, if only because he had a scout fleet he could turn back around and send out on rescue operations. "Put Grunt through the QEC channel, if… If they still have the goddamn ship we outfitted for it."

He took a seat behind the heavy metal and glass desk of his office and set the glass and bottle both aside, not bothering to hide what he knew the Krogan warrior wouldn't give a damn about. ' _Hell, he might want to try a sip himself. Not that he'll feel any of it.'_

"Admiral." The Krogan grunted, his desk's built in holo-displays still functioning enough to project an image of the battle scarred warrior standing across from him. Arms crossed, head cocked, and leaning his weight on one leg. Favoring it for the wound on his other by the looks of things, though the Admiral wouldn't point _that_ out any time soon. "What do you need, Admiral?"

"To check in." And make sure, for sanity's sake, that their fleet's QEC still worked. Grunt was smart and skilled on a battlefield, but he wouldn't put forgetting to mention the broken QEC past him. "How's the Queen? Is she healing up nicely?"

"She's just fine, nestled in the _Urdnot's_ cargo hold, healed up and well fed. Enough to pop out pups 'n get our ship patched up with scrap and the like." The Krogan shook his head and sighed, the sound sending static crackling across the connection. "Wrecked armored units, a few scraps of fighters we were haulin' back for reclamation, _cargo containers_ , never seen 'em used the way the Rachni do."

"Sounds useful." Hackett grunted, mind already racing with ideas and plans he could make on how to capitalize on this particular advantage.

"Ridiculous is what it is." The warrior snorted, shaking his great head, and then meeting the admiral's eyes, "But yeah. Also pretty damn useful. They converted scrap metal and cargo containers into _armored plating_."

"I'm going to have a fleet of _mostly_ derelict and unusable cargo ships moved to these coordinates, in high orbit over Ruam. She can live there, grow for a while until we come up with something better, and help with extraction of Helium-3 from the gas-planet." The fuel would be damned useful, to say the least, and no one would mind giving that spot of space to the insectoid aliens to start growing. On second thought, in fact, "I'm going to order supplies delivered, so inform her she may begin construction of her own shipyard and orbital facilities as she wishes. Once ready, we'll do the same for Vaul. She can settle the moons there. Barely habitable, by our surveys."

"Cuz' Rachni give a Varren's ass about habitability, eh?" Grunt snorted, the Admiral shrugging uncaringly at the snide remark. They could give plenty of planets over to the Rachni, between Aralakh system and other, adjoining ones. "I'll get my fleet headed that way, Admiral. Meet the cargo ships and offload this giant frickin' bug to 'em. Carry the crew with tme to Tuchanka. Unless you have marching orders?"

"Aralakh Company is Wrex's command." Hackett answered shortly, "Besides, you'll need time to rearm and replace your lost warriors. Let Wrex know I can get you something if he doesn't have anything himself, though."

"Will do, Admiral." Grunt nodded, asking after a second, "What, uh, what is Shepard's next mission going to be?"

"Investigating Geth activity reports and looking for the Quarian Migrant fleet." Between the Rachni and the Quarians _alone_ , their ability to, quite frankly, bullshit together ships, weapons and infrastructure would be a beautiful sight to behold. And even discounting that, the addition to their Coalition before either the Council - who was, from what he'd heard, making moves to regain influence and prepare for the Reapers themselves - or, worse, the Reapers got them could _only_ be a good thing. Looking at the Krogan and reaching for his glass, he asked, "Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity." The warrior grunted, the old admiral's smile earning a low growl of disapproval before he snarled, "Grunt, out."

Taking a sip from his bourbon he sighed and reclined in his chair, turning to watch New Arcturus' continued construction contentedly. A new emotion, for the Reaper war at least, for him to profess to feeling.

And the same could be said for his spark of hope.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Object on Utukku done, the Normandy had long since separated from the Krogan flotilla, after a single conjoined Relay jump. The only maneuver they made, it turned out, in comfort. The rest of the travel was completed as the legs to Utukku had been, with the thermal barrier raised and heat trapped inside the ship as they leapt between planets and large asteroids they could vent heat into without being seen. Which meant more long days and, eventually, weeks of travel in the incredibly hot interior of the Normandy. Bored weeks, though, with thankfully few _settled_ worlds once they ranged close enough to the Perseus Veil proper.

Which meant no fleets to turn their backs on or worlds to watch burning as they slipped by, thankfully. So instead of morale shocking sights, they just had… Endless boredom, with nothing to do but sweat and wait. Particularly for the Commander's specialist team, he found out quickly, minus Vakarian who helped maintain weapons and T'Soni who… Did whatever she did, that he didn't know or want to know about.

Which brought Javik, finally bored enough, out of his room and into _John's_ room to speak about something, to alleviate the heat and boredom equally he was sure. And it wasn't like he had many friends aboard the ship's crew, in any event, so it made sense.

"Lances of particle energy are superior to ballistics of even Mass Effect in tearing through armor, and ammunition conservation. Two things important in combating the Reapers, a fact today's primitives are learning quickly." The Prothean warrior explained, sitting on a crate next to the ODST, working on his Harrier and wearing little more than his uniform pants and a sleeveless tee.

The soldier gave the green, humming weapon a look and grunted curiously in thought, and Javik took the invitation to speak, "Its recoil is also nearly nonexistent, and unlike weapons your primitive allies have developed so far, it sacrifices _none_ of its killing capabilities."

"Harrier has plenty of punch to it, and I installed a recoil dampener so that's no problem." It was splendid as a weapon, and the sentimental part of him was glad to have turned it away from its crueler works to something better. Or maybe that was Shepard and, through her, Thane's influence at work. He couldn't be sure which, with their mixed up memories, and pushed it aside completely. "I like it."

"I see." The Prothean grunted, leaning back with it in his hand and giving the ancient, familiar weapon an affectionate pat, running his hands along its sides. The weapon, John knew, had gone into stasis with him, been altered after by him, and had been with him since a decade prior to his stasis. Amber eyes found his and, in a low voice, the alien murmured, "I suppose you would know how it feels to fire both, in the end."

"Hm." He did. He could, if he closed his eyes as he did then, remember it. The feeling of the particle rifle firing, lancing out from cover with a dozen Prothean warriors around him, and carving apart a charging Prothean husk. It fell and the memory flowed, his - Javik's? - hand coming up and lancing out with green energy, whipping a stunted, mammalian _thing_ through the chest and hurling it into its fellows. He grunted and turned to look at Javik, and added, "I do, yeah. When I try."

"It is how the tactile memory transfer works, yes." The alien nodded, smiling pleasantly at discussing something _Prothean_ again that, John had to be honest, kind of intrigued him. If only for the direct effect it had on him, personally. "I have considered offering you more instructions, in that way, in truth."

"Why?"

"I wish for my people to be remembered, I suppose. As they were, at least, rather than some…" He sighed and waved his hand in front of himself, like he was waving a stench away, and turned to watch him work on his Harrier as he spoke further. "My people were proud, dominating, and pure. I do not wish them forgotten."

"Liara would be the bet for that." He said shortly, reaching for a metal carving tool and picking up the casing of his rifle, setting to work carving his symbol into it. Why, he had no idea, beyond a strange… Wish to preserve it, his symbol, on the weapon he'd taken to. So that no one would ever mistake it for a Cerberus weapon. Sighing while he worked, he added distractedly, "I am not a historian, or anything like that. You want that, you want Liara."

"Are you certain?" He asked, voice hesitant in a way the Prothean _rarely_ was. "I feel she would not… _Take_ to more intimate knowledge of my people and empire."

"Any you gave me would be wasted." He grunted with a small shrug, lifting the case of his rifle and blowing the shavings off gently. Inspecting the scarred in marks, and making a note to get it painted in before they hit the operation system, he went on, "Besides, I… Don't like people being in my head."

"I see."

"No offense." He assured the alien, glancing to him to watch the alien's reaction.

"None taken." The ancient alien waved the concern off as soon as he saw it, and recognized it through their unique knowledge of each other, face flat and plain, and he shrugged in return, turning back to working his rifle in a fresh silence between them. Fresh, but amicable, he noted after a moment. Finally, Javik spoke again, "Do you ever feel as though, in combat, you know precisely what I will do before I even do it?"

"...Yes." Many times he'd turned from an enemy, knowing where Javik was and that he would end it. It wasn't a unique experience, time as a Marine and in ODST training both had seen him with multiple people he trusted as much in combat. The short time span, though, _was_ somewhat perplexing, but, "I always just assumed it was due to… What happened, when you touched me. I know you, and you know me."

"Better than any other way. Such was commonplace amongst my people's military, tactile sharing so that a unit could move and fight as one body. One mind." Javik smiled and nodded up and towards the middle of the ship, towards the Commander's Cabin. "She and you are close and fight well together for the same reason. You know what she will do, and she knows what you will do."

"Hm." He'd noticed that. She was more open with him, more trusting and understanding typically, and trusted him under arms as much as even Garrus. Enough to trust her child, and it seemed species could be damned on that front, into his command and send them into a hellish fight. Sliding the casing over the rifle's mechanisms, he opted for a change in conversation, "What do you think about the Geth and Quarians?"

"Synthetic life is an abomination, and the Quarians were fools to have mistakenly created them. Were they Protheans, they-" He cut himself off with a hiss of breath and bared his teeth, forcing his eyes closed to catch himself before he said something he might regret. After a moment, he spoke, low and fierce, but tempered with control, "The Quarians are needed for the Coalition to grow stronger, and with as many weaklings as it feels a need to save and hide, and the matter of time before the Reapers finish with this part of Space and move on, their ships will serve well."

"And the Geth?" He already had a good idea of the alien's answer, but wanted to hear the input regardless.

"Artificial life is an abomination, as I have said. Their destruction is as needed as the destruction of the Reapers themselves." Javik answered simply and flatly, as though it were the most blatant and obvious thing to say. An expected answer, but the ODST didn't try to argue it. There'd be no point, he felt, in starting an argument. After a moment though, he blinked at something seemed to strike him and added of his own accord, "I know that your people fielded them however, and… Suddenly, I am less certain of that."

"All things in moderation and properly treated will, in turn, bloom as flowers under sun and rain." The words fell from his lips, but they weren't his, and he blinked after a moment. Physically shaking off the memories from Shepard's past, with Thane's teaching, he grunted, "I'm sorry, that was-"

"An after-effect of the tactile bonding." Javik nodded, "Some days, when one is bored and idle, their minds and those they have touched mix beyond the subconscious twists and turns that came with the bonding itself. Even among Protheans, such was a common problem, and soldiers would rest when it occurred."

"I see." It was normal, then, even if it was only really _normal_ for an alien species and culture. Still, the normalcy of the experience put his mind at ease, which was nice. Even if it had only happened once, at least like that, it was still an… Uncomfortable experience, to say the least. "Is there a treatment for it?"

"As I said, merely patience and doing things you would normally seek to do. Particularly, though, things that I would _not_ do." He turned to the alien with a clear question and Javik humed in thought. "I do not know… Read some books, perhaps? Carouse with the crew? I would do neither and so that would push your idleness away and steer your thoughts to dealing with things related to _you_ specifically."

"I'll gather some material and spend some time reading, then." He was _not_ going to let Shepard get wind of him wanting a 'party', or the reasons why. The Reapers would first detect the antics she'd get up to, and then flee from them before she somehow wrangled half their _fleet_ into it.

And not, he would wager, in the sense of the party being a battle.

"We're set to reach the Quarian home system soon." Javik murmured idly, watching him finish piecing his Harrier together and exhange it for his new sidearm, a heavy Phalanx Garrus had gifted him. The lasersight he traded for a green one his VISR system would work better with, and then set to work on the internals, replacing the recoil dampener as always while Javik spoke, "According to the Commander's brief-"

"I've read it." The thing was only a few pages, detailing more what they _didn't_ know than anything else. To fill the silence and, as Javik had suggested, keep his mind from being too idle, he ratted off the cliff notes version, "The Migrant Fleet purchased enough ship-to-ship batteries to mount their entire fleet, as well as to make as battle-ready as possible a few _dozen_ cargo freighters, old enough to be useless cruisers from mercenary companies and fighter wings."

"They also purchased ordinance for them and missile launchers, fighter craft, electro-magnetic-pulse torpedoes." Even though they knew the Reapers were immune to them, the torpedoes available for bulk purchase _precisely_ because of that. The Alliance, then the Coalition, and the Citadel _both_ had learned that lesson fairly quickly and abandoned the age old tactics of EMPing enemy flagships to disable communications, if their GARDIAN systems didn't hold up. "And then they gathered enough fuel for the entire fleet plus new additions, and that fuel trail ends at the borders of the Perseus Veil. Where a small number of ships are waiting for… Something, by scout reports."

"Shepard also expressed that, perhaps, it is their knowledge we are coming." Javik pointed out, the ODST nodding at the suggestion. "Beyond their increased intelligence network, they have _thoroughly_ rearmed, as you said yourself. Which means war. Likely with the Geth."

"Why now, though?" He asked quietly, the question as rhetorical as any other kind of question could try to be. Even if, as he thought for his own answers, he hoped Javik might offer some as well, "The Reapers should be more important, I would think. Normally, the Geth stay in their space and leave the rest alone."

"They did fall under Reaper control, for a time, in the Commander's first encounter with the Reapers." And the rest of the galaxy's as well, of course. There was a reason Reaper capital ships were 'Sovereign' class as opposed to anything else. "Purely pragmatically, it makes sense to rob the Reapers of this asset _and_ reclaim their homeworld, as they have so wished for generations. It could also just be bad timing."

"The reports did fail to detail when these preparations began." And if they began before the Reapers arrived, the warhawks would only need a little bit of spin to continue into the war they wanted. He sighed and added, "Regardless, it looks like a war we'll have to solve."

" _John, Javik, the Commander wishes to speak with you and the rest of the strike team in the cargo hold. Apparently, the Migrant Fleet Admiralty Board has made contact and there are details to be discussed."_ The AI's words chimed in at the most convenient time possible, almost like she'd been listening and waiting for the proper chance to interrupt. An unsettling but, frankly, rather likely situation to be the case. " _Your arms and armor are unneeded, and in this heat not recommended. But do hurry, the QEC contact is still detectable on the Quarian end, and we are doing this while venting heat."_

Standing, they turned to head that way. A short trip, luckily, but the cooler air outside his quarters was something he looked forward to.

In the wake of _weeks_ of intensive heat treatment, engineering had been on heavy duty, keeping the _Normandy_ up and running. The cargo boxes remained, but now had been set up like a miniature refugee camp of sorts, with makeshift hammocks spanning wherever safely possible for the crew to catch their quick naps between repairing one subsystem or another. Dozens of fans had been set up as well, to keep workers and systems _both_ cooler and operating properly, and in the back corner just outside Vega's self-made quarters, a table and cooler had been set up where, even now with an important meeting across the way, exhausted workers, engineers and other crewmembers sat on low stools, buckets and crates, looking haggard and working their way through their rations and tins of water. Vega's little pet project, to stay busy while they traveled, he knew.

Across the Bay, opposite the Kodiak shuttle where Cortez's legs could be seen poking out from under the blue box while he worked, the strike team had gathered. All were exhausted from the weeks of heat and travel, now, dressed in light clothes or nothing if possible. Like himself, Vega wore only his boots, uniform pants and an undershirt, and Shepard was the same with the addition of black sports underclothes _no one_ cared could be seen. Garrus and Javik wore their loosest clothing as well, the former in a thin, silken looking thing with a low rim around the neck and Javik actually wearing _Human_ clothing like the Commander's own, to the shock of even the ODST himself who'd sat with him for some time now. Edi's body wasn't present for obvious reasons, but, somehow, Liara barely looked bothered beyond the sweat on her brow.

Projected from the command console, a blue, holographic Quarian had stood waiting for them anxiously, hands wringing together. Shepard stood beside the hologram, ostensibly to lend the stranger to some of them an air of authority. But, just as likely if not more so, due to the fan right behind the red-haired woman. She nodded and introduced the alien admiral when they joined them, and then xeno the woman began detailing them in brief on what had been happening beyond the Veil.

"There have only really been a few skirmishes, so far, but the Geth are mobilizing into a larger, singular fleet as we move through the Tikkun system." Tali finished her explanation, the young Quarian woman the admiral that had left the Veil to make contact with them when she, somehow, found out the _Normandy_ had been tasked to find them and make contact. "Technically, the Admiralty Board is split on me meeting you when you arrive. Admirals Zaal'Koris and Daro'Xen are the only reason I'm here."

"The heads of the Special Projects fleet, basically scientists and science ships, and of the Civilian Fleet. That name is kind of self explanatory, there, but hey. Lemme know if you need it." Shepard explained with a small, tired but playful grin for all their benefits. Beside her, the blue, holographic Quarian nodded in an exaggerated, Quarian way in thanks when the Commander glanced to her. Turning back to her beleaguered squad, she continued, "According to Tali, the Heavy Fleet, their mainline military arm, is pushing hard for a battle. And while they can't _order_ the other Fleets into combat, if they're attacked…"

"The other Fleets will be forced to support." Tali finished for her, "It's a way to circumvent the need for a proper motion and vote, a Conclave one or otherwise."

"Why not just replace him if he's pulling shit like that?" Vega asked, lacking his usual hispanic pejoratives and _most_ of his charm for the heat exhaustion they all felt by now. "That kinda crap can't be legal."

"It's his Fleet, and we don't have a legal reason to strip him of his titles." Tali answered simply, shrugging her thin blue shoulders with the answer. "If we could force a Conclave hearing and force in an Overturn, he could be stripped, but there's no way we can manage that. And stripping him illegally would cause a civil war, which would be _worse_ than fighting the Geth."

"Which means we're going to be joining this war, on terms that Tali will put forward for a vote to have the Quarians join the Coalition officially as a member state." Shepard finished for them, the soldiers nodding in understanding. "Their fleets are important and large, their space based technological expertise unmatched, their salvagers the best in the galaxy, and their adaptability and loyalty beyond reproach. Does anyone have any questions?"

No one did, and after a moment, Shepard nodded curtly, "Alright then, get some rest. We rendezvous with Tali tomorrow, which means we will _not_ be masking our heat starting in… Ten hours. Look forward to it, and be ready for a long fight. We'll be retaking Earth and Palaven at some point soon, so consider retaking Rannoch practice. Understood?"

A chorus of affirmation went around the room and Shepard snapped a salute, crisp and clean, that was returned in various ways by her team. Then they were dismissed, and the young ODST turned and rolled his shoulders, stretching at the thought of the coming fights. And the research he would be doing into the Geth ahead of them, of course.

The next fight was on the horizon, and he looked forward to seeing what the Geth could offer him.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_


	24. Chapter 24

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

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 _ **I hope you all enjoy the chapter update and the proper start of the Rannoch Arc, and hope you drop a Review and let me know what you think. But this isn't for that. I wanted to offer a special congratulations to a friend of mine named Bill the Something, who recently became an uncle.**_

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" _All crew, proceed to combat ready positions. All crew, proceed to combat ready positions."_ He turned to the nearest intercom to listen, in case any instructions came for him to follow. But instead, the bridge officer carrying the command across the ship just repeated himself and added, " _We will be Relaying into Tikkun system to engage Geth skirmishers. Quarian Civilian Fleet and Heavy Fleet escorts are engaged already, but be braced for damage shocks regardless. I repeat, expect combat shocks during engagement. All crew are advised to wear protective equipment where possible."_

On that note he turned and picked up his helmet, sliding it on with a comfortable, almost claustrophobic kind of familiar comfort. A quick press of a button on his 'Tool had his armor running diagnostics, while he personally scanned around the scratches and shallow gouges scarring the plates around his chest and shoulders for breaches. The Rachni's claws were sharp and hard, and had adorned his chest, back, thigh and shoulder plates in dozens of shallow looking, white-streaking claw marks and gouges. None of which, his scans told him, were compromising the integrity in any way. Still, he applied some Omni-Gel he'd been issued to patch in the holes a little. No more than a pinch or two across his body, and it took no time at all, but he felt much safe with the small application.

Next he checked his Harrier, loaded with a fresh thermal processor, Element Zero power cell and ammunition block, and tuned to perfection, holstered safely on his back. The same could be said of both his Carnifex _and_ Phalanx sidearms, the former collapsed and attached to the bottom of his cot and the latter on his hip, ready and waiting. Armed to the teeth, he sighed and eased himself onto the floor, leaning against the wall between his makeshift maintenance desk's crates and his cot, tucked his legs against his chest, and leaned his head against the wall to close his eyes.

If they needed him, they knew where to look for him.

"Rookie! My man!" He blinked and sighed, turning to look at Vega trotting in, stacked in his armor with a helmet under one arm and a metal box under the other, the man dropping the crate on the ground across from the smaller Human with a grin. "S'our first time, goin' into an engagement like this together, figured I'd bring you in on some good ole' Alliance tradition, _loco bastardo_."

"Hm?" He grunted, leaning forward and looking at the box curiously. "No alcohol. Might need to engage shortly, and having that-"

"Nah, nah, _loco_." The large man grunted, kicking an empty crate from near the stairs over to sit on. Plopping down, the hispanic man grinned ear to ear, shaking his head wryly, " _Maldita sea, estás tenso_ … It's steak burgers with cheese, old Earth recipe."

"Steak?" Where had the man gotten actual _steak_ , of all things? "You have… Cheesesteaks?"

"Yep! Three each for us, some nice, clean water, and real _maldito_ sodas, from the Citadel. Before, you know, shit went down." He shrugged and pressed a button on the side of the white crate, cracking it open and sighing. "Ah, just get a whiff of _that_ , Rook… Damn fine, _damn_ fine."

"Hm." He shrugged and sighed, leaning forward and accepting the first of his smallish little subs, reaching up to click the release to his helmet after a second's further hesitation. But in Engineering, inertial dampeners should be on anyways, so if they were getting batted around it was probably the ship going down… "Thanks for the food, Vega."

"Not a problem, Lieutenant Commander Doe." The man smirked, shrugging and ripping a chunk off his own with a groan of pleasure. "Ah, actual damn _steak_! I wonder if cows exist anymore, back on Earth…"

"No idea." It wasn't like the Reapers needed to _eat_ them, or anything, so if he had to make a bet he'd bet they were.

"To steaks of victory, then." Vega chimed, pitching a black bottle of aluminium at him and grabbing one for himself, smiling. "The Geth first, then Cerberus, then the Reapers. Sound like a plan to go down?"

"Yeah." He grunted, smiling slightly in spite of himself, raising the bottle slightly and grunting a low, heavy, "To victory. For Earth, and all of her colonies."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"Joker, what have you got for me?" Shepard asked shortly as she came into the cockpit, hand around the forearm of her armor, adjusting it as she looked over his displays. Beside and just behind him, she saw EDI, mostly still aside from her hands flicking across displays. Only a modicum of the ship management she was running, the Commander knew without asking. But when her pilot only grunted a non-answer, the Commander's tone hardened, "Are we green or red, Flight Lieutenant?"

"Running last checks, Commander, that's all. Heat played hell with some of the systems that weren't fully retrofitted back on Earth." Joker finally answered, grimacing as his bones protested the motion but turning to look at her regardless and giving the taller woman a nod. "Last minute checks and emissions purging, two more minutes and Engineering will be done. EDI?"

"Shield systems are uncompromised, externals scans shown both the additional Silaris brand armor and Alliance additions and repairs are uncompromised, and General Vakarian-"

"Whoa, whoa, Reaper sized _whoa_ , Edid. Since when the hell was 'stick up his ass' Garrus a _general_ again?" Joker interrupted, the two Humans in the cockpit sure that EDI was up on everything and that she'd have started with anything problematic rather than listing everything that was functioning.

"I believe it was in conjunction with the Reaper Task Force's absorption of command control in Aralakh System, prior to the curing of the Genophage, Jeff." EDI answered, smiling the slight little smile she always did when she was amused at something, looking softly at the pilot. Shepard saw it and smirked knowingly, pulling her helmet on and clicking it into place before the AI could make a note of it. "The Primarch has since promoted him so that he may appropriate needed resources as he sees fit, to further the war effort. With his rank, he can draft any isolated Turian units or civilians into service, for instance, should he need it."

"I mean, makes sense to do that, I guess… Still, Garrus? A General? That's-" An icon popped onto the pilot's console and he flicked it away, coughing awkwardly and jerking his head to the side with a small sigh. "All system reports in, Ma'am. All green across the board, fire officers report ready weapons."

"Kinetic barriers raised, one hundred percent." EDI added mechanically, even by her standards, as Joker began to orient and push the _Normandy_ around for an approach vector, already anticipating the ahead full command. "Emergency barrier generators green on all decks. Breaches unlikely to destabilize hull structure."

"Acknowledged." Shepard snapped, turning and calling down the line of bridge officers, "All officers, sound off."

"Communications, green."

"Engineering, slight Eezo spikes in the core since we raised the barriers to combat levels. All manageable levels across the board, Ma'am." Another answered, "Status green, Commander. Ready for combat deployment."

"Gunnery decks report green." The last officer down the line called back, adding after a moment, "Ready to rock and roll, Ma'am."

"The Migrant Fleet, EDI?" Shepard asked, addressing EDI now, a hand on her chair and leaning over the AI's console, bracing herself already for the Relay jump. Or for anything else that could go wrong, as few survivable versions of _that_ paranoia as there were. "Are they in position? How's the skirmish going?"

"Neither side has committed to an action as of yet. The Geth likely do not have sufficient numbers to risk an engagement so close to the Mass Relay." EDI answered, eyes flicking as she simultaneously managed a thousand minor systems across the ship, assisted in the readiness of it, communicated with the Quarians and ran probabilities. "Likely reasoning is that the Geth as reported do not have a fleet of enough tonnage to quickly contain and eliminate the Quarian escorts. So close to the Relay, ships could drift on either side whether crippled, destroyed or neither and cause an Eezo arc reaction."

"And when we Relay in?" Shepard asked, already fairly certain about knowing the answer but wanting the AI's more intelligent confirmation regardless.

"Likely they will move to engage, or retreat. It depends on when they detect the incoming and where they are. Too many variables." The AI gave her an apologetic glance, barely a smile and a slight narrowing of her eyes, and Shepard waved it off. Turning back ahead, the AI asked, "Permission to Relay into combat operations, Commander?"

"Granted. Take us in, Joker." She ordered, bracing herself with the chair and the wall behind EDI's seat, hands gripping the former and one foot braced against the latter. Her cybernetics, as much as she despised their origin, were good and could take anything that came. So nothing else was needed, really. As they approached the Relay, and Eezo arced out to touch the ship and begin applying the Mass Effect, she let her eyes closed and murmured, "Arashu, Amonkira, protect us as we go into this hunt. And allow us to strike down those who we must for the greater good."

"Jumping." Joker warned, a moment before she felt the displacement and shift in gravity as they were _hurtled_ through space towards the Quarian home system. Ten seconds of silence passed before Joker again warned, "Transitioning out of Relay influence into normal sublight speed in the combat zone… Now."

The Quarian fleet had formed up almost four miles straight out from the incoming Relay transition zone, itself about ten kilometers or so in every direction in front of the Relay's massive, curved end. The Geth had formed up on the other side of them, a few kilometers away with the sun on the backs of their ships, rows of three dozen of the same exact beetle-like ship formed into lines to meet the Quarians far more ramshackle, but no less organized or threatening, fleet of converted freighters, moth-balled and decommissioned warships and, in three cases, mercenary frigates repainted a dull silver and sporting Quarian iconography. These formed up in circles of smaller ships around bigger, and thusly more populous and important for fleet roles, ships in their centers. These formations then themselves formed one big circle of less important ships put forward, and more important ones put towards the Relay.

A standoff in the blackness of space, three ordered, uniform rows of Geth frigates facing down twice their number of Quarian ships, to the last ramshackle and duct-taped together with heavy turrets mounted on top. All the cannons were of the same make and painted a dull, ruddy brown, to boot, which made the fleet's smaller ships look like kid's toys with tank cannons fixed to the tops. And the larger ships were made to look like the reverse, warships with kid's toys taped to the tops and bottoms of their long shafts.

But as they emerged and the Geth fleet started to disengage, wary of reinforcements coming in rather than wanting to eliminate them, those shoddy looking guns and ships proved their worth. Each formation's ships moved in tandem, forming clear lines of fire and targeting individual Geth ships as they turned and pulled away.

Most ships utilized long, interior built cannons to better protect them and allow a higher 'caliber' round to be fire, and so engaged in staggered lines with their fronts facing the enemy. But the Quarians used heavy, top and bottom mounted battery turrets, which meant their formations didn't need to alter and their ships didn't need to slow or turn to fire.

Concentrated, long range battery fire lanced through the blackness of space like a thousand fiery asteroids, streaking into the rears of Geth ships en masse, a litany of Gardian-esque defensive lasers trying to blot out as many as possible. Silently, with the audio synthesisers still off for the moment from the Relay jump previous, the Human Commander watched as half the Geth ships' shields sparked bright blues that mixed in a brutally beautiful display and burst in flares of distant violet, before the ships added a hue of fiery red to them.

"Commander, orders to fire?" Joker asked, quiet for once as he watched the Quarians fire a second volley. This time, the majority of the rounds missed, the Geth ships rapidly withdrawing away from the Quarian ships.

"Negative, Joker. They're withdrawing, and we don't want to force an engagement when we're not entirely ready. We have the sector secured, so we should enjoy it." Whether that was due to their losses or the _Normandy's_ presence, the Commander wasn't sure. But as the Quarian ships began to break formation and move around the Geth remains to salvage what they could, she turned and called down the line, "Crew, yellow status. Maintain status until otherwise told."

"Aye, Ma'am." Chorused up and down the line and she nodded, watching them work for a contented moment before turning back to Joker and EDI.

"Get coordinates from the Quarians for a rendezvous point, and get Vakarian and Doe up here." Her XO and Garrus, for a friendly face for Tali at the very least. And an addition of having a _technical_ representative of the Krogans, by adoption or not and a Krogan would likely rip anyone that tried to push the distinction in _half_ , the Turians _and_ Systems Alliance. "Have our Marines on standby as well, still, until we're sure we're safe. No one wants boarders, and we know the Geth might try. Remember the Battle of the Citadel."

"Aye aye, Ma'am." Joker grunted, nodding with a grimace at the memory. The original _Normandy_ hadn't lost any crewmen or infantry to Geth boarders, but other ships very much had. Other ships that the then young pilot had known, too.

"Designated crewmembers are en route to airlock, and the Quarian shuttle carrying the Admirals coming aboard is on its way to us. We need not move from our position." Which made little difference beyond a microscopic fuel differential. "I am calling Marine escorts to escort the Quarians into the War Room proper, and they will meet you there, if it is agreeable. Along with General Vakarian and Lieutenant commander Doe."

"Good plan, EDI. See to it then, if you would." The Commander nodded as the ship listed to the side, out of polite concern more than necessity, and a small, elegantly built and clearly Asari, shuttle came zipping towards the _Normandy_. With a sigh, she turned and called back, "I'm headed there, send a message if _anything_ changes, and fall in with the Quarian fleet."

"Aye, Ma'am." Joker called after her, "Hiding in the middle of all the other fishies and hoping we don't get shot, got it."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

Standing opposite the door, with Shepard at his side and Garrus a few feet away at the console, arms crossed and gripping his carapace, the ODST watched the Marines drop off the Quarians and leave. The two were both women, in brightly colored, cloth covered hardsuits that reminded him, _distantly_ , of ODST armor. He could see and read the armored seals, fluid transferral systems, layered, padded protections and more.

As it turned out, only two Admirals had come to actually _meet_ with them. The reasons were as obvious as they were numerous, on that front, from the basic nature of sending a small detachment to the Relay's risks of destruction and the loss of the Admirals, to their need to keep in command of their respect fleets. So he'd not needed to ask after their low numbers or lack of escort, and simply nodded a greeting to them when their glowing eyes landed on him and his commander.

A brief exchange of hellos and the meeting was underway, or the first leg of it at least. Starting with proper introductions.

Admirals Shala'Raan vas Moreh and Tali'Zorah vas Normandy had come to meet with them, and brief them on the goings on in the system and the reclamation war both. Apparently, the Geth had been successfully pushed back to Tikkun in the early stages of the assault, probably due to surprise as much as the focused, sizable Quarian fleet being too much for any Geth fleet to handle.

The push had ended in a decisive battle above Tikkun's star, and the destruction of the bare skeleton of a Geth Dyson Sphere, meant to house more intelligence and networking systems to further Geth intellect throughout their space. A Reaper destroyer had arrived via Relay a few days later, shattered the Heavy Fleet defenses in the area, and vanished in the direction of Rannoch. Then had come the Geth retaliation, seemingly shaken by the losses incurred, in the form of the Geth super-dreadnought that had broken the Quarian advance in tandem with the intelligence upgrades.

"We're relocating to where the rest of the Migrant Fleet is located, our rendezvous already cost the Fleet it's access position to the Relay. And if we wait at _all_ , then the Geth super-dreadnought will get itself between us and the Migrant Fleet proper. Isolated, our sub-fleet dies." Tali finished, leaning on the holographic display in the war room and pointing up at their small detachment, currently cruising at the far end of the system, around and away from the combat still ongoing around the star.

Hearing no questions after a moment, the Quarian woman went on, "There are mostly skirmishes, for now, while the Geth build up their forces and lock us away from the Relay. The super-dreadnought is broadcasting an electronic code that we believe is augmenting Geth intelligence and coordination, as well as bypassing our internal networking security."

"My technicians have managed to create a VI system that can combat the hacking attempts around eighty two percent of the time." And each failure meant a ship shutting down, the ODST didn't bother pointing out. The second Admiral was a woman as well, though she sounded older than tali by a margin and spoke with a thicker accent. "Subtracting the super-dreadnought, our fleets are comparable, and we could withdraw or attack as we decided."

"Withdrawal would be the smart option." Shepard pointed out, leaning against the railing beside him with her helmet between her feet and a scowl marring her features. "I'm guessing that's out of the question?"

"Until the super-dreadnought is destroyed, at least." Tali answered, "Which we need the Normandy for. Boarding it and disabling its generators would shut down the wide-band signal broadcast and limit how many ships can use it, regardless of where the Reaper vanished to."

"Doe? Vakarian?" Shepard asked with a sigh, eyes closed and two fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "What do you think of the idea?"

"It's batshit insane, obviously." Garrus chuckled, shaking his head wryly and then shrugging dismissively with a short, trilling sigh, "But batshit insanity has never stopped a single person in this room before. Well, except for one of us, no offense."

"None taken, I assure you." Shala'Raan answered shortly, chuckling under her breath. "I'm more than aware of the insanity this ship's crew get up to. You talked about it prolifically when you returned to the Migrant Fleet. Both times that happened, as a matter of fact."

"Doe?"

"Infiltration of an enemy ship is a risky maneuver, and one only the _Normandy_ or one of her stealthed shuttles can accomplish. But that would mean moving either _you_ , Commander, in an easily destroyed vehicle or the _Normandy_ entirely behind enemy lines." He answered, staring at the dreadnought and the Geth fleet surrounding it with ships numbering in the low thousands while his mind raced. Sighing, he finally shrugged like his compatriot had and finished shortly, "It would save on casualties, and force a break in the fighting, though."

"Assuming Zaal'Koris agrees not to pursue the Geth fleets when they retreat to Rannoch, and that Han'Garrel doesn't try to pull out of the system all-together..." Tali grumbled across the room, sighing and pushing off the console. "I can coordinate the Fleet to distract them and the _Normandy_ can separate from the sub-fleet and head from here towards the Geth. We board during the diversion and disable the vessel, and then evacuate aboard the _Normandy_."

"You can't mean to go _with_ them." The other Quarian asked in a low, cautious voice, "You're an Admiral, even if in name only. You shouldn't risk yourself like that."

"I'm the resident Geth expert, and hacking their programming is a requirement to disable the super-dreadnought." Tali argued simply, "So unless _Garrus_ has learned how to maneuver a VI interface to bypass and control auxiliary motor control and disable-"

"I haven't." Garrus interrupted shortly, a single claw raised into the air along with his point. He let it fall when the other, older Quarian woman looked to him. "I… Didn't catch half that, actually. So, yeah, not going to get this done without Tali's help."

"That was also why we took her into the field in the first war, against Saren. Her skills are just… Too in demand." Shepard added gently, smiling sadly at the memories it brought. What specifically, the old soldier couldn't guess without trying to recall memories not his own. Which was certainly not something to attempt right now. "I wouldn't risk a friend and ally like that, and I will _personally_ put myself between her and any incoming fire if need be to ensure she makes it back."

"No she won't." The ODST interrupted, the red-haired woman at his side giving him an outraged look that he shrugged off uncaringly. Just as loud and unashamed, he explained simply, "I'm the expendable one here. A Turian General, a Quarian Admiral and the most influential Human in the galaxy aren't. Anything comes against us we can't handle, I'll be the one in front."

"Ah. I see, then." It was perfectly reasonable, and a code of action he'd operated under for the entire duration of the war. But still, the way Shepard said the words sent a familiar chill and tremor up his spine, and earned a resigned sigh from the man as she spoke, "Regardless, she won't be thrown to the wolves, I assure you. Should we need a rapid exfiltration, we'll breach the hull and the _Normandy_ can pick us up."

"Then… I suppose I have no other choice." The woman sighed, staring at the Geth fleet on the display and nodding in understanding. Of what, he couldn't be sure, but the Quarian went on regardless, "Then as the operationally unaffiliated representative for the Admiralty Board, I approve this operation. Now, to negotiate terms for Coalition involvement and support."

"We were told the Quarians were willing to discuss membership to the Coalition, in return for our assistance resolving the conflict at hand." Shepard nodded, pushing off the railing and gesturing at Garris and he in turn, "Lieutenant Commander Doe and General Vakarian are accorded negotiating power for the Krogan and Turian species respectively."

"How does a Human represent the Krogan warlords?" Tali asked, voice devoid of anything but simple curiosity and surprise. That honest wonder didn't stop her wringing her hands together when he turned to look at her, quickly schooling herself and forcing her arms to hang at her sides, thumbs tracing circles slowly on her palms. "What I mean is that we don't know the political field of the Coalition as it stands. We scarcely even know the member states, beyond the three you represent."

"After the curing of the Genophage, for my own lasting support up to that point and for the Lieutenant Commander's sacrifice-"

"He ran under a Reaper destroyer to summon the galaxy's largest Thresher Maw to fight it for us, and got shot. Four times, if I remember right. Then he called it, got shot _again_ and fell into the sand below." Garrus interrupted, mandibles clicking and a low, vibrating trill echoing around the room as the alien shook its head and laughed.

"After, yes, all that." Shepard sighed, smiling slightly at the Turian's antics in spite of the situation. "The Krogan officially adopted Doe and I into their clans and species. Only Urdnot Wrex himself, or a chief Warlord, could claim a higher right to be here then Doe himself. None would, given his status, but the point is made."

"The leading members are the Turians, represented by the Primarch until… Things aren't blowing up fairly regularly, I guess, Admiral Hackett until elections take place," _if_ , the ODST didn't add outside his own head, "and the Krogan Chiefdoms, headed by Urdnot Wrex who, apparently, is building his own senate. Modelled after the Alliance's, apparently. Even though the Coalition will have its _own_ Senate, so I don't-"

"There's also the Volus, but they're a client state of the Turians and so come as a package and are subservient to them wholly." Shepard finished, interrupting her Turian ally before he could rattle off something else sarcastic and unnecessary. "As you have no client state status to speak of, you'd be an equal member. And as such, I have been told to bring you a suggestion you will _not_ like."

"And that is?" Shala'Raan asked lowly, head angled down and to the side in what he guessed to be a conveyance of wariness.

Life inside a helmet meant facial expressions were useless, and so body and movement took the lead. He knew that well enough, even if his visor was translucent at the moment, most of the time it wasn't. Thus his grunts, shrugs and gestures. Beyond himself, though, the usages of hand signs and gestures were born of the same reasoning and needs.

"That you should withdraw from Tikkun and help in the war against the Reapers, first and foremost." Shepard put it plainly but grimaced and held up a hand with a sigh, " _But_ that was before the Reapers became involved. A problem of your own making but one we have to resolve, somehow, regardless of how it got started."

"Giving the Reapers the Geth would bolster their numbers and give them an industrial base we can't afford them having." Garrus added helpfully, making clear that this was not a mandate for them to leave. "Our fleets, though, are tied up evacuating Turian and Human worlds, running rescue operations for Citadel worlds lost where we can, you know. War stuff."

"Which means we have to destroy the Geth by ourselves, with what we have and nothing else." Tali nodded, sounding… Resigned and beaten by the information, or something about it. Her shoulders were sloped in and now her hands wringed themselves together freely, the younger Quarian clearly upset by the idea. "Raan, we-"

"Have no choice, while the Heavy Fleet insists on staying in Tikkun." She cut her fellow admiral off with a stern, but gentle and equally resigned voice. "The loss of the Heavy Fleet would doom the Fleet as a whole, without a doubt. We have no choice but to find our way through this. Through war or negotiations, whichever come, we can't leave the Heavy Fleet here."

"On negotiations, actually…" Shepard began, glancing between the two Quarians with a flat, expressionless face. "Have the Admiralty Board considered negotiations with the _Geth_?"

"The Heavy Fleet and Science Division both refused any negotiations or diplomatic overtures." Tali answered, hands curling into fists against each other, fingers clenched so tightly he would _almost_ swear he heard the material protest. "The _Geth_ attempted to hail us up until we came into the Tikkun system. Judging by the Reaper arriving, I can guess why _that_ was."

"We have to disable the Reaper signal, then." Shepard pushed, moving to the edge of the holographic display of the system and pointing at it. Or rather, at the glowing red icon that showed where, precisely, the signal was originating. "If we disable it, I can make contact with the Geth myself. As a representative of the Coalition, with Doe, Vakarian and Tali, we can make an overture."

"The heavy fleet-"

"Will be outvoted if the Geth agree to a peace deal." Tali cut in suddenly, moving to Shepard's side and pointing at the Migrant Fleet. Or, at the cluster of liveships at the back of the formation, shielded by the Heavy Fleet, Civilian Fleet escorts and even Science Division frigates. "The Conclave can vote against the Admiralty Board, and agree to a peace deal too, if the Geth offer one. Even if the Heavy Fleet and the Science Division both refuse and vote against it, they'd lose a refusal referendum."

"Then that's what we do." Shepard concluded, before Raan could argue. Or admit defeat, for that matter, either way it was the same. Giving the older Quarian a look, Shepard asked, "Is that amenable to the Migrant Fleet? Peace, if possible?"

"I… Yes." She finally nodded, sighing but sounding far more relieved and hopeful as she spoke. As she _planned_ , rather. "I will speak to the Civilian Fleet and begin making overtures to the Conclave. When the time comes, you will have the votes, so long as we have a home to finally come to. Even the Heavy Fleet will bend to the people's will, if Rannoch is poised before them, waiting for them to land."

"Team, to the Engineering Bay. I want each of you outfitted with a hardsuit that will seal the atmosphere." Her eyes landed on John's exposed finger on his right hand and she met his eyes, offering a small nod. "Our first great charge was for the Cure, and now we fight for Rannoch. Are you ready, John?"

"Ma'am." He saluted, the Krogan way this time instead of the Alliance or UNSC way, a fist pounding into his chest plate harshly. He was a krogan after all, in all but genetics, and it would pay to sell that. With a nod, he finished, "For Rannoch."

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Nlong :**_

 **I heartily recommend speaking to Javik all the time and getting to know him. He is layered in such sorrow and tragedy, and a willingness to change once you confront him on things, that I find myself a fan of him. He's kind of like Jack, or Miranda, really. Rought, harsh and cruel seeming at first, but once you wear them down… A good person, at their core.**


	25. Chapter 25

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 _ **Betas for this story so far :**_

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 _ **Made a mistake last chapter and reversed the Heavy and Civilian Fleet names. I apologize. Going forward, the names will be correct, assuming I don't fuck it up more, lol. For context, Admiral Zaal'Koris vas Qwib Qwib leads the Civilian Fleet. Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema leads the Heavy Fleet. Apologies for any and all confusion caused by my mistake.**_

 _ **Credit for the correction to Spacetaz.**_

 _ **Also, this chapter is less 'action' and more 'stealth infiltration' so… Hope it turns out good, I guess? As always, drop your input, so I know whether to do this kind of thing again.**_

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"Nope, no, nuh uh, hands off the goods. You can barely _fall down_ without swapping galactic addresses, you don't get to help the _perfectly_ handicapable lord of this little castle to his seat." Joker snarked when the armored ODST offered him a hand into the Kodiak. Hands held high in surrender, he backed away from the lightly armored, hardsuit wearing man and Tali took his place, offering the pilot a gentle hand on his bicep and ribs to support him. Smiling, he nodded gratefully and practically _dripped_ sarcasm, " _Thank you_ , Lady Tali."

"You're very welcome, Joker." The Quarian responded, waving a hand towards the door with an over-dramatic flourish, head bowed slightly in faux-reverence. "Your, er, your throne awaits."

"I give up…"

"Ignore it, John. You'll end up used to it either way, Joker's starting to like you." Shepard suggested, sliding by him into the Kodiak, one hand on his chest so she wouldn't fall while the other slid her helmet over her bright hair. Voice muffled by the armor, she added, "Joker's an ass to the people he likes. Bigger the ass, the more he likes you."

"I will have you know I am a leg man, thank you very much, Commander!" Joker called from the cockpit, laughing brightly along withTali, Garrus and the Commander herself and then finally coughing to clear his throat. "Gotta familiarise, give me… Oh I dunno, Cortez, how long will it take to get me a taco or something?"

"I dunno, I'd say a minute longer than you have." The normal pilot answered, checking the engines of the shuttle over and asking, "You sure you want to pilot? I'm more than trained on this, you know, and you're… _Rusty_."

"Hey, I'm the best pilot in the Alliance. Got a little sticker and everything, so don't known the wings, alright? And don't call me Rusty." The darker-skinned man shook his head and sent his gaze skyward, searching for and failing to find help for dealing with the man, and Joker went on. "The _Normandy_ is hanging back to support the Migrant Fleet's offensive, and EDI can handle that. The Kodiak, though, needs the best pilot around and, no offense, but I have experience skirting Geth patrol lines and sensors."

"I only flew fighter jockey against 'em, yeah. And even then, only once or twice, never even did a shuttle drop back when Saren was active." Cortez nodded simply, ever the professional even now. With a barely contained, muted sigh, the man blew air out his nose and asked, "You have everything handled in there, or need a rundown on the systems?"

"Rundown." Joker quipped instantly, the voice echoing out of the cockpit and back to where the man was standing. "Will be faster any way, and got a deadline to meet on this one for the plan. Gotta deliver the special surprise inside to the Geth before thirty minutes, or it's free. And they'll take my tip. And not the fun tip, either, that's only for-"

"Do not finish that sentence, Jeff, or I will delete your special archive." The AI chimed through the cockpit and Kodiak personnel compartments both, sounding as _threatening_ as she sounded amused. Joker held up his hands in mock surrender while Cortez slid into the seat beside him to walk him through it and the AI waited while the team took their seats. Armor locked, sealed and weapons stowed, to the last at the ready for the mission, the machine began to speak, "I am coordinating with the Heavy and Patrol Fleets currently. The Civilian Fleet will be in close support of the main engagement, so their liveship's heavy, dreadnought class weaponry can lend the more potent support."

"They're sending the _Liveships_ into battle?" Garrus sounded shocked, and the ODST could sympathise. He knew what they were, essentially floating cities drifting through space, where the majority of food growth and processing was run and where most of the oxygen was produced for the fleet to use. "Even in a supporting role only… I don't know, it seems way too dangerous."

"If the Fleet loses and the Geth counter our operation, then the Liveships will be destroyed regardless. And when _that_ happens…" Tali shrugged, fingers playing with the intricacies of the blocky, gently humming pistol she held. Stilling, she glanced up to Shepard and nodded her head, "If that happens, then the Quarian people are already dead. The liveships being armed doesn't really matter in any event."

"Beyond a chance to hit back, as petty as that would be when surrendering would be better." Shepard nodded, giving a tired shake of her head that Tali answered in a shrug, the Quarian woman apparently in agreement. "Or _running_ , for that matter, if you all get the chance. The Coalition would gladly accept the survivors, but… Quarians are bit too loyal for deserters to abandon the Fleet and Rannoch both."

"Loyalty isn't a bad thing to have." He'd seen the damages of dissidents firsthand, after all, and knew what a lack of discipline and order could cause. The Insurrection had, according to rumor and facts both, led to many worlds falling by undermining UNSC loyalty and power, unintentionally paving the way for Covenant devastation. After a moment, he concluded equally as simply as he'd started, "We won't need to worry about that, though."

"Why do you say that?" Tali asked, accented voice colored with a kind of curiosity he'd only seen in children.

And, well, _Shepard._

"Running, sheltering in Coalition space, it all assumes we're going to lose." He shrugged, leaning back against the rear of the shuttle across from the two women, Garrus at his side giving him a look. Again, he shrugged, and explained with a wave of a hand, "We're going to win, so all this conjecture is pointless."

"You heard it here first, folks. Just win the greatest war in any single one of the galaxy's species histories, simple as that." Joker called back, having been half-listening to their chatter as he seemed to always be doing. The team around them snickered and the ODST sighed, the man adding after a moment, "Green up here, Commander. Running last system checks and we'll be going into the black."

"You heard him, boys, girls and ugly ass birds-"

"Love you too, Commander."

"-that was the last call. Check your armor seals, hardsuit lines, and ammunition counts. We're boarding a dreadnought." The Commander finished, taking the moment to be the first to start running checks and reaching up, scanning her body from the head down with her 'Tool, twisting and turning to get every last inch of her body.

Around them, the others did the same, but _no one_ matched the Commander's fervor and border-line paranoia, rescanning each and every inch a half-dozen times before finding contentment. Save, of course, the ODST, whose psyche had forever been scarred with a death by being vented into space. The source of both their paranoias, in this case.

But John wouldn't mention it, and no one else seemed inclined to note it either, so he let it go and began rescanning his helmet.

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"We're alongside the dreadnought now, no sign of detection yet. Matching dreadnought drift and sealing cockpit compartment, Ma'am." Joker reported after several quiet minutes of the shuttle weaving through the fleets, first the Migrant Fleet and then the Geth.

Both had been equally unable to track them, of course, and the resulting maneuvers had been stomach churning almost for the occupants of the little blue shuttle. Even the orbital-drop hardened ODST found some of the twisting and turning to be challenging, though only just. Nothing more than a rougher than ideal drop, to him, and the same discipline could be seen throughout the compartment. Stiff shoulders, bowed heads, and chests rising and falling deeply and slowly as they steeled themselves against their reactions.

"Everyone ready for this?" Shepard finally asked, pulling her Avenger, retooled for the closer quarters to be expected _inside_ a ship and thus lacking the longer range scope in favor of a heavy barrel suppressor. Standing beside the door that would soon open for them, she glanced between each of her men in search of their confirming nods. Returning the gesture, she banged a fist on the wall dividing the compartment from the cockpit, "Joker, we're green. Start storing the atmo."

"Aye, Ma'am." The voice crackled over their communication links.

Normally, he'd been told, the communications would be banned so near a Geth fleet. But unlike normal communications, these suites had been hardlined into their helmets and run through the shuttle's communication suite that itself was looped through the _Normandy's_ Quantum Entanglement Communication core. The Geth would still detect the transmissions, if they were paying attention, but thanks to the QEC integration they'd think it was coming from the _Migrant Fleet's_ general vicinity. Rather than the heart of their own fleet.

"Atmo exfiltration and compact storage starting on my mark." Joker finally warned, waiting a last few moments for the squad to prepare itself and acknowledge the information. "And… Mark."

Around them, located in the corners of the Kodiak and nestled where the walls met the floors and ceilings, little vents began to hiss. Sucking the air back in, just as easily as it had blow it out, to depressurize the compartment. After nearly a minute, he felt the distant, muted chill of vacuum overtaking him as the ability for heat to be transferred vanished without an atmosphere to conduct it. The sensation lasted barely a half-minute before his armor's interior tweaks and systems kicked in, the matte black undersuit he was wearing heating in response to protect him from the chill that tried to bite through it.

"Atmosphere vented, reading standard black temperature readings." Joker reported once the process was done, long, _long_ after the sound of the ventilation hissing had faded away. Not enough atmosphere to conduct the sound, he knew. "On your order, Commander, I'll open the compartment to the black and you can conduct your space walk-assault."

"Tali, I hate you _so much_ for this plan of yours… Absolutely hate you. Not even fucking joking." Shepard snarked for a moment, shoulders rising and falling as is readout on her vitals registered a rapidly rising heart rate. For a moment, she paused, fingers drumming on the side of her rifle in a rhythm he knew from _her_ memories to match a Drell prayer for mental sanctity in the face of old scars and pain. Finally, voice tight and edged, she ordered, "Open the compartment, and make the standard logs on protocol violation. Team, prepare for boarding action."

"Aye, Ma'am." The team, Joker included, chorused curtly in cool military fashion.

A few seconds passed before, soundless and featureless as befitting the vacuum of space, the door across from him lifted into the void, the Turian and Quarian sliding away in the zero-gravity environment, grabbing the edges of the door carefully and holding themselves there. Beyond, he could see the seemingly endless dark blue of the Geth dreadnought's smooth hull. On the other side, he knew, he'd have been able to see the majority of the Geth Fleet engaging the Heavy and Patrol fleets, the massive, bulbous liveships beyond hurling long range dreadnought fire into the fray as Geth and Quarian lines interlaced in an almost purely distractionary knife fight, albeit with knives the size of some small towns.

"Gentle leap, don't run or kick off too hard or you'll smack into the hull and could hurt yourself." Or crack a visor or seal, or even trigger some kind of motion alarm if the Geth had taken security that far Garrus didn't continue. As unlikely as any of that was to happen, it was worth mentioning regardless.

"Garrus, you take Tali and go ahead." Her localized jammer would lock out any sensors that might pick them up, as they were _clearly_ not moving like debris right now.

The duo nodded and turned, pulling themselves around and onto the outer hull, then gently _pushing_ with their feet. They landed on the Geth hull gently, gripping each other and simply floating, just trapped enough by the massive ship's gravity to stay in place but not enough to pull them against the hull. Satisfied it was safe, and Tali's blocker was working, the woman waved an alien hand and the two Humans mirrored their stunt, this time being caught by their fellows waiting for them. Turning, they watched the Kodiak seal up and pull up and away, aiming high to find a safer spot to wait on their return where the Geth ships couldn't _turn_ and _ram_ them.

"There is a hull maintenance hatch this way. Stay close, the proximity sensor jammer won't reach terribly far away." Tali said quietly, turning weightlessly and pulling herself along using the minute protrusions and armor intersections, as well as mag-locks in her knees and feet, to find purchase.

Almost fifteen minutes passed, long and tensely quiet, the soldiers taking their time to avoid any potentially, or rather _almost definitely_ , lethal mistakes. But they made it, at least, in the end.

Their final destination was a simple round hatch, barely protruding from teh hull around it and with no manual way to open it. Ostensibly, _that_ was a security measure and a species oriented difference both, in that organics would be unable to open the hatch normally, without hacking that most would fail to hide or something to break through the hardened armor plating and get in. Meanwhile, Geth could simply interface with it universally to gain access, with no fuss or mess to speak of.

A world of difference, there, and an advantage set on a _species_ level that simply couldn't be ignored.

"I'll run the bypass." Tali stated simply, drifting beside the door with Garrus on her other side, one taloned hand grippping the thin groove around the hatch while the other hovered near the Quarian. Lit by the orange glow of her 'Tool, she added in a quieter voice, "Just give me a minute or two…"

"Just get it done." Shepard snapped, shoulders tense and off hand curle dinto a fist so tight he wondered if she might rip through her armor's seals from the force of it. After a split second of silence, she added in a weak, but somehow still edged like a razor, voice, "Sorry, I just don't like it out here. Too open."

"I understand, Commander." Tali murmured, distracted and simultaneously worried for the woman, fingers flicking across her glowing interface's surface like lightning. "I'm working as fast as I can, I promise, just… Hang in there, please, Commander."

"Yeah just, uh…" Garris floundered for a moment, no doubt grimacing behind his mask at it, and finally sighed, "Just sit tight. Will be over before you know it, so just-"

"I'm fine." She cut him off, pulling herself closer to the ship, as much as she could at least, and turning her head to stare at it. "Just… Just fucking drop it, alright? I'm a grown ass woman, s-so I'm fine. Just let it be."

Silent as ever, he settled in behind her, less thana foot from her back and poised like Garrus was. One hand gripping the hull where he could find purchase to, and the other hovering near the Commander's hip in case she was jarred away. For a full three minutes they floated like that, the Quarian's agitation slowly showing more and more in her body language through the duration.

"Bosh'tet!" The Quarian shouted finally, flicking a finger to the side and throwing up another quartet of interfaces. Each crawled with code that flew by faster than he could discern. "Come on, come on… Where is the hole…"

" What's wrong, Tali?" Shepard asked lowly, looking to the side as a streak of fighters screamed mutely by. Close enough that, if Geth used windows - he had it on good authority that they _did not_ \- he was certain the pilots could have seen them floating there. The Quarian didn't answer and, in a more firm, demanding voice she repeated, "Tali, what is wrong? Is the bypass software not working?"

"No, it's working, but something else is blocking it on a base code level. It responds to what I'm going to do as fast as I do it, like-like it _knows_ what my intentions are. It knows my code, Shepard..." She answered finally, violet eyes flicking across them worriedly. Panic lacing her tone, and the way her fingers curled and her legs tucked under her, "I-I can't get us in."

"Fuck!" Shepard shouted, reaching up to touch her helmet and contact Joker on the short band, their hardsuits unable to use the QEC's systems so far from the _Normandy_. Which meant that, _technically_ , there was a risk of detection, though only a small one. But for an emergency exfil, it wouldn't matter, "Joker, this is Shepard. We can't get through the-"

Suddenly, and with as little warning as sound in the vacuum of space, the hatch broke into a dozen triangular segments and slid back and in, out of view into the walls. Inside was a simple, cylindrical room with another door a couple feet away from the space-side one, the room lit in a bright, sterile white. Humans lit in reds to play to how their eyes worked, but such was not how a synthetic would work, and making all lights a simple, sterile white would lower production costs, he supposed.

"Hold, Joker." Shepard murmured across the multi-channel, turning to Tali and asking, "Thoughts?"

"I'm not detecting _any_ alarms, and the ships out there aren't reacting either. It could be a trap, but there's no _reason_ to trap us." Out in space, even if a missile _missed_ it would still kill them by sending them pirouetting into the black abyss to suffocate or freeze. So there was no reason to let them _in_. "I'm also not detecting movement inside, and… And my bypass systems are working now."

"What did you change?"

"Nothing, Garrus, that's the thing. Whatever was fighting me just…" She waved a hand at the open hatch, and the brightly lit room beyond, to make her point. "It just _stopped_ fighting me, for no apparent reason."

"The Coalition needs this, regardless of if it's a trap or not." John responded when Shepard turned slightly to look at him, the man grabbing her hip and using it as an anchor when he pushed off the hull, spinning in front of her and drawing his Phalanx in his left hand and gripping the edge of the door with the other, using the dominant limb to peek around the corner. Finally, he concluded, "I'll take point, you all stay staggered a couple feet behind me when we advance. Something happens, evacuate the admiral with an exfiltration charge. Acceptable?"

"And you'll follow." Her statement brooked no argument and so, in spite of his own knowledge he very well probably would _not_ be following them in that case, he nodded.

"Then it's acceptable." At that, the woman turned to Garrus, "Rook, you're first, ping the walls with your VISR system and see what you see. You're second if it's clear, Vakarian. Tali in front of me, and I'll take rear. Have demo charges on me in case this is a trap, so we can blow the hatch and exfiltrate immediately. All copy?"

A quiet chorus of various kinds of affirmations sounded across the line before Joker closed it, mitigating the minor risk of the Geth checking the random shortwave signal in the rear of their fleet. Inside, the ODST's VISR pinged around the walls, highlighting the electronics in and around outside it in search of discernible bombs or signal bursts. Seeing none, he waved them in and stepped closer to the door, leaning against the wall perpendicular to it while Tali slid against the other to run her bypass.

"Opening now, the bypass worked this time, no hitches." She warned, just as the door did as she'd said it would, the other sealing behind them. The 'Trooper was through inside a moment, Harrier snapping left and then right warily.

The access hallway was, as expected, merely an access hallway. Ten feet to the right and left before ending on both sides in heavy bulkheads meant, he was sure, to prevent structural collapse if the accessway was breached. Or, in this case, in case the Geth detected boarders using the access port to get into the ship. Tali settled in behind him, kneeling and checking her scanned map of the ship, and Garrus took her other side, watching one door while the 'Trooper watched the other. The walls of the passageway were smooth, as the outside had been, and the soldier guessed that was to prevent decompression complexes.

It was like the access-way was just one big, double-set airlock system.

"The other room is pressurized, brace." Tali warned, the soldiers kneeling and pressing together, Shepard in front of the Quarian and the other two leaning back. After a few moments, the alien engineer murmured, "Opening now."

Wind rushed by, mute at first as the atmosphere collected and then whooshing gently as it quantified enough to carry sound. After a few seconds the ODST stood and slid around the group, taking point and striding to the left side door while the squad arrayed itself behind them. The room beyond was wide and tall, crossed by piping and ventilation as well as lined by what his inexperienced eye recognized as thermal banks for weapon cooling. What weapons, he couldn't guess, but the outer hull was lined by them, and the pipes and ventilation systems carried around the room into other towers of blocky storage banks, to keep the weapon and system heat locked inside safely so they didn't need to compromise their kinetic barriers to vent.

And of course, they'd boarded in the midst of battle, and the Geth fleet had directed heat storage to the _safe_ side of the ship. Which meant that the atmosphere in the area was easily bordering a hundred degrees, just from what escaped the glowing, orange banks of the heat-sink room. Getting through meant ducking, crawling, and vaulting over steaming lines of heat banks and pipes whose heat had the atmosphere around waving, like the horizon of a desert. Not fun, but this direction would likely be safe and let them make some space between here and the back of the ship where the Reaper signal was being boosted. Unless they could find another way…

"We continue along the hull like this, and we should be fine. Sensors don't work for long when in this kind of heat, and only a couple Geth signatures were ever detected by our probes or LR scanners." Tali explained, sounding perfectly comfortable in her no doubt at least mostly climate controlled hardsuit. "It should only take half an hour if we hurry."

"And hurrying is kind of demanded, with the fleets engaged like this." Shepard sighed, sounding agitated and all-around exhausted already, Avenger slung across her chest. She pointed ahead of them, at a door across the room beyond pipes and banks they'd have to make their way around, over and under, and finished, "Let's get moving, then. Double time."

A half-hour long frog march through Geth heat-banks it was, then.

When they finally left the heat-banks, it was to step out into a twenty foot wide, thirty tall hallway that, according to Tali's maps, wrapped around the hull of the ship. In the center, a large divot was set into the ground, small blue generators sparking gently all along its length in either direction. Thin struts, with wires and small, black balls Tali helpfully identified as - blocked, of course - sensor suites that monitored the tram system that rushed goods around the ship, from ammunition to spare parts and even to Geth when the need for a personal job came about.

"We were going to use this passage to get up here, but…" But _whatever_ Tali's software had run into, she was avoiding sensors she didn't need to play with. In the heat-sink bays along the axial spines of the ship, they were mostly useless, but here? They could be detected, and she was anxious for that, now. "From here, we should have direct access to an adjoining section of the ship, and through _that_ will be the command deck."

"Both of which will be heavily crewed." Shepard cut in coldly, giving the trip a look. "Disruptor rounds, and aim for the limbs. Geth have redundancies, so it's easier to cripple them badly enough to leap out of their bodies than to try and destroy them outright."

"Learned that fairly quick, back in the day." Garrus nodded, sounded more energetic than the two Human soldiers, owing to his natural inclination to the heat. After a second to roll his shoulders in preparation for the coming fighting, he added, "They have little lights for faces, too. If you can pop them, they freak out, for some reason."

"It's a sensor suite." Tali explained, sounding exasperated in a way that told him she'd explained that quite a few times already. "When it goes out, their sensors go with them while they route to backups. As a result, there's feedback, which causes the spasming and jittering. Newer models are working around that, though."

"Yeah, well…" The Turian hefted his Phaeston and chuckled dryly, patting its side, "We'll see about _that_ , Tali."

"Focus, the both of you." Shepard ordered, voice laced now with as much amusement as frustration, tension and heat-driven exhaustion. Still, as a soldier ought, she drilled through it and moved to lean against the wall beside the door Tali had marked on their HUDS, a little blue circle indicating it. He moved to the other side and Garrus, Tali's bodyguard now, moved with her to stand in front of it, the woman's fingers flicking across her 'Tool screen. "Can you access the sensor system well enough to gauge the opposition?"

"Already did, there's several Geth platforms on the other side of the wall. Thirteen of them, in fact. Only..." The Quarian paused, eyes flickering across her Omni-Tool's readings, before she glanced to the Commander again. "The same resistance I met before is back, now, but… It's not resisting me."

"How can you tell it's there if it's not doing anything?" The Turian asked, looking at the screen for a moment before shaking his head, unable to read the rapidly flowing Geth code.

"I keep seeing the same code-string, from the blocks I was seeing before." She answered simply, fingers flicking across the screen at what must have been instances of it. Voice curious and cautious, she went on, "But it's… Helping us. Supporting my bypass on the sensor suites, jamming the platform's radars- There, it just cut communication lines and put their outbound on a loop. The platforms can't call for reinforcements."

"Why is it helping us?"

"I-I don't know, I keep launching inquiries and getting 'No data applicable' as a response." Tali shrugged, closing her interface. "We had Geth divergents back in our fight against the Collectors, Legion called them Heretics _,_ " _that_ word had connotations and brought up memories for the ODST, who tensed but let it go while the woman went on, "so maybe this is the same. Geth that don't agree with the Reapers."

"And maybe they know we," Shepard gestured to the two aliens and herself, "worked with a Geth before. Hence letting us in when they'd been locking us out, which means they have security access."

"A Geth schism…"

"We'll mention it to the Admirals once we're out of here, but for now, we have a job to do." She raised her voice and reached up to touch her ear, activating their shortwave again, before adding in a moderately hopeful voice, "Maybe our friendly Geth has enough control to get some atmosphere in here for us? Some of our 'Tech abilities work better with it!"

The quartet waited for a _very_ short time until, just as they'd given up and began forming up for a breach maneuver, they heard a faint hissing sound.

And _hearing the sound_ meant that there was atmosphere to carry it. True enough, when they checked, they registered rising oxygen and nitrogen levels on a standard galactic trend. Whatever was helping them had begun filling the tramway with atmosphere just as they'd asked, and the squad exchanged an unsure glance at the realization and the confirmation that it _was_ a Geth doing all of this.

From the wary glances and narrowed, hard eyes he saw through his team's visors, he wasn't the only one uncomfortable with the fact.

"Everyone, breach the room and clear passage for the Admiral." Shepard ordered, in spite of the grumbling Quarian's complaint about the term and treatment. "John, Garrus, point. In and sweep, I will follow, Tali will provide support. Copy?" A chorus of affirmations, and the woman nodded in response. "Then form up, and prepare to breach. John, use the sensor grenade Tali gave you."

"Understood, Commander." He nods, leaning against the wall opposite the Turian and waiting on his ready nod. Seeing it, he spoke simply to the Quarian across the tram line, "Open the door."

Priming the little cylinder in his hand, he pitched it through as the door cycled open, following after directly. Garrus did the same, turning to the right and sending a torrent of Phaeston rounds ripping through a small, white Geth reeling from the jamming grenade's overload. In tandem as though connected and trained for it, Shepard and the ODST moved together, sending long bursts carving through the right limbs of each Geth to debilitate them and send them sprawling across the ground before moving on to the next, leaving the struggling, lightly armed machines to tali to finish off with muted _whooshes_ of electrical discharge.

Inside a minute, the Geth in the room had been destroyed to the last, limbs crippled or cut away by high caliber fire, their power units overloaded and smoldering from disruptor fire. Two of them spasmed weakly on the floor, but short bursts into their backs, and thus their power transmission cores, ended that rather resoundingly. And then, they waited, kneeling in the center of the room and watching either door, for the inevitable reinforcements.

"Nothing on the Geth's communication networks." Tali reported quickly, "The adjoining rooms lack atmosphere, so sound wouldn't have carried. And the tramline's sensors are still blocked…" After a moment, she finished, "Whatever is helping us, it isn't letting the Geth catch on to what we're doing."

"Good." Shepard murmured, lowering her rifle and standing, the group spacing out more comfortably now they had some assurance of safety. "Tali, the map says to head through the next room to-"

"Actually," the Quarian interrupted suddenly, "our mysterious friend sent me a data-file. It's a map and layout of the dreadnought's decks, in _much_ finer detail than our scans allowed."

"Show me." Shepard ordered simply, the Quarian simply nodding at the demand and setting to work. With a flick, she blew up a holographic display of it, the ship interlaced with a score of decks and thousands of compartments and access lines. One, near the hull and adjoining the tramway line, lit orange and Shepard asked, "That's us?"

"Yes, it is. One of the control rooms for the thermal embankments, in fact, hence the… Consoles lining the walls, and the lack of much else." The Quarian responded, as a line drew itself through a winding web of rooms and access halls shooting decks higher and lower than they wanted to be, eventually reaching the core of the ship they'd been heading to. The orange line then flashed to green, as though to indicate it was a better route, and Tali spoke in a confused voice, "And that… Is the broadcast core, where the Reaper Signal is coming from. Where we're headed."

"Then let's get moving, because I want to know what the _hell_ this nonsense is all about." Shepard ordered shortly, shaking her head and gesturing for the Quarian engineer to lead the way. After a moment, under her breath, she added, "Though I have a feeling I know _exactly_ what is going on…"

He didn't ask, used to being in the dark and sure he wouldn't be for long. Instead, he contented himself with walking a couple feet ahead of their group, checking blind corners and doing what the Quarian behind him ordered him to.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Crazzy Tony :**_

 **Thank you! Glad you've enjoyed it, imperfect as it is.**

 _ **Dr Killinger :**_

 **Hope you enjoy them.**


	26. Chapter 26

_**(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

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 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

"This is the final access door into the room emitting the Reaper signal." Tali murmured, voice low regardless of the sound dampening her helmet used.

An armored cluster that surrounded the younger Quarian woman, knelt with her escorts arrayed around her like a wall of iron. Nestled in the door's recess, the Turian and Human commander on opposite sides of the door with the ODST stood blocking the Quarian from the access hall itself. Cloistered between them, the woman worked away on her dimly glowing Omni-Tool, checking and rechecking her access bypasses, jammers and more.

"Do we have a functionable scan of the room's layout?" The commander asked, voice layered in her ever-present tone of authority as much as it was by static.

"Yeah, give me a moment, I'll bring free-form program a holo of it for you." She answered, fingers flitting across the pale orange front of her holo-display as she worked and talked. "During the first engagement against the Dreadnought, a Civilian Fleet survey ship was damaged heavily. Engines disabled by pinpot GARDIAN lances, or something similar to GARDIAN at least, and adjacent decks venting atmosphere."

"Engineering." Garrus guessed, the Quarian nodding. "So they busted the engine all to hell and holed engineering, so they couldn't get in to do repairs. Smart."

"Vicious, but… Yeah, smart." Shepard sighed, giving the Quarian a glance and sighing at the tense shoulders and narrowed, glowing eyes. "Tali, are you-"

"We lost the Nart'an, Shepard. All hands." She murmured sharply, and the ODST wondered if she was jabbing the holographic keys harder or if he was seeing things, the man standing half-turned so he could watch the hallway and the conversation both. In a low, angry, keening voice she grunted the last. "So if we could not comment on how apt the Geth are at killing my people, I would greatly appreciate it."

"Tali…" Gently, almost a maternal edge to her words, the commando leaned forward and laid her off hand on the side of the Quarian's helmet in what the ODST's research said was an intimate, mothering gesture. Tali stiffened and froze under her hand and, the Quarian woman relaxing as she did, Shepard spoke simply and quietly. "We'll end this, Tali. No more Quarians will have to die over Rannoch. First the Geth-"

"Then we deal with Cerberus and then the Reapers. I know, Shepard, you don't have to explain it to me again. I just..." Tali finished for her, trailing off at the end and leaning into the hand resting against the side of her helmet. Behind her visor, her eyes narrowed into dimly glowing, horizontal slits and her fingers finally stilled for a moment. Only a moment, though, before those eyes flashed open and she stood, fingers pressing a last few keys as a holographic outline of the command room flickered into life. "There's around a hundred access points into the command room, Commander, according to the Nart'an's deep scans before she went down."

"We'll pay 'em back for it, Tali." Garrus assured her, laying a taloned hand on her shoulder and offering her a reassuring squeeze. She gave him an appreciative nod and, head tilted to the side, he snarked, "Line 'em up for me and I'll put holes the side of _my ego_ in 'em."

"That's a pretty big hole, Vakarian." Shepard chuckled, gesturing at the door with her rifle. "You really sure you can pull that off? Probably a lota Geth behind this door, ready to fill _us_ full of holes whether they know we're here or not."

"Of course I am, Commander." Garrus chuckled, flexing his talons like a predator would at the thought of sheering apart prey. Which, for the veteran, might very well be an apt analogy to make. He and Shepard had, after all, hunted Geth and a Turian across half the galaxy once before, years ago. "What's a little Geth shooting between old friends, right?"

"Like old times." Tali mused, an odd feeling of nostalgia in her voice as the trio chuckled quietly, sending static crackling across their lines.

"Standing crew complement and likely defensive locations?" He asked once they'd quieted down and settled into a not-quite-comfortable silence, blinking when the threesome turned to him sharply. Shifting from leg to leg he shrugged, "I'll be leading breach, so I need to know where to point myself first."

"Geth don't station guards, per se, since almost all platforms they make are fitted for basic combat duties." Tali answered quickly, hand flickering across her Omni-Tool's display like alien lightning. Dozens of rows of consoles set onto platforms throughout the complex lit up under her ministrations. "These are all processing information, but my probe is only reading passive systems from most of it."

"Meaning that there won't be physical Geth until we trip a sensor, probably." Shepard tossed in, "Geth tend to station more platforms around perimeters, like the hull of the ship, than inside where things are automated."

"Unless something goes wrong, they don't feel a need to be there." Garrus pitched in, rolling his shoulders and waving his rifle meaningfully in front of himself. "So how about we go make something go wrong for them, then?"

"Good idea. Doe, you and I will go first and secure some ground." Shepard ordered, "Vakarian, come in after us, keep to range and move Tali wherever she says she needs to be. Speaking of, trace on our little helper, Tali?"

"It ends in the center of this room, Ma'am, according to my probes and…" She sighed, "And according to pings _it_ sent to me, too."

"Wants to be found." Garrus nodded, checking his rifle and sighing. "Let's go meet our benefactor then."

"Roger that. Doe, form up with me." Shepard ordered, the group splitting into the twin pairs she'd ordered.

He and the Commander each leaned against the bulkhead recess' curve opposite each other, Tali standing in front of the door, rapidly pressing commands into her 'Tool. A moment later she nodded and the door opened, the two Human soldiers stepping through close enough their sides touched and if they'd turned, their rifles would have met barrels. In tandem, they through the door, backs briefly pressed against each other as they froze, watching for a reaction. Some reprisal for their intrusion into the very heart of the Geth defence, at the core of their most venerated dreadnought.

A reprisal that never came, even after a full minute of their anxious waiting.

"Rook." He turned to look over his shoulder, the commander gesturing over hers with a thumb and pointing to the side with two of her fingers, "Look there." Closing her fist she inverted the hand, her thumb pointed at the ground. "Down."

He rapped his knuckle against his gun hard enough to 'clack' gently in affirmation and rose, stooped low and shuffling to the edge of the platform, leaning against one of the rows of terminals that ran along the edges of it. Carefully, he leaned out over the edge, looking down from near the top of the ovular room. They were stood at the very apex of the massive room, a single platform ringing the entirety of it with a hole in the center about forty feet wide, lacking anything more than a low, thin wall to prevent Geth falling off the edge.

Fingers gripping that thin wall he stood fully, his side pressed against it and his back against the humming terminal adjacent to it, to look down. Below, the room stretched for at least a hundred feet of the same circling landings lined with terminals, though as they descended the landings grew wider and he could see the height increase towards the center, where he assumed command consoles and main units were. Which made sense, as the room itself was in the center of the dreadnought and that area would be the center of even this room, and thus the safest position to occupy.

"Connecting visor feeds." He murmured across the line, a small disk of glowing Omni-Tool springing to life in his hands for him to put in the commands. A moment later, a small red dot appeared in the corner of his helmet, a somewhat primitive but perfectly functioning signal to him that it was work as needed.

"That will be the command structure below, in the center of the room." Tali confirmed his previous thoughts, somehow also adding an overlay of red highlights along the central, wider open area of the command deck. "And this," she added, highlighting the moderately smaller in comparison diamond shape, "is broadcasting the Reaper signal."

"Then we blow it." Shepard remarked, the ODST instinctively sliding to the side a moment before she joined him there. Their shoulders pressed together she gave him a sidelong glance and grunted, "You packed grenades."

"Yes." Their connection meant she knew he always packed explosives, but he answered the non-question for the same reason she'd asked it. Namely to inform their team of what the duo already knew. "From here, I can sling Omni-Grenades and cripple the structure."

"That'll bring all the Geth onboard down on our heads." Garrus warned, adding in a moment, "Moving to you."

"If we climb down and encounter any direct control platforms, the same thing will happen." Tali argued simply, the two dextro-aliens moving along one of the long terminals to another of the small, two man wide gaps that allowed their view down into the area. "But I want to get down there regardless, see if I can maybe access any networked platforms and shut them down. Or disable the fighters the dreadnought has no doubt launched."

"Then we go-"

"Hacking!" Tali warned, the group dropping out of any potential sightlines and pressing their backs to the thin metal, rifles snapping up at the warning. "Geth intrusion detected, using my bypass lines."

"Our 'friend'?" John asked quietly, sliding to the side to lean behind one of the long terminals and use it to brace his rifle.

She didn't answer right away and he sighed, drawing his sightline along the terminal he was using for partial cover against the left side of the platform, his eyes staring where the wall curved and watching for any movement while his VISR pinged for any electronics flare. Beside him, Shepard watched the same while no doubt Garrus watched the other and Tali worked on their problem. For nearly a minute, though it felt like more, they sat like that in silence and patience, waiting on her word.

What spoke, though, was _not_ the young Quarian.

"Shepard Commander." The synthesised voice cracked through the connection, swathed in static from the haphazard hacking. "You are close enough, we are attempting contact from our platform."

"Legion?" The woman didn't sound terribly surprised but instead sighed and, when she spoke again, sounded more relaxed. "So you were our helper, then."

"Affirmative."

"Tali, even out the signal, let Legion help." She ordered, the Qurian shouting an affirmative and setting to work. "What's the situation, Legion? And be detailed. Not _Geth_ detailed, but you know what I mean."

"Affirmative, we have memories of your prior explanation on the matter stored. Further, we apologize for the prior subterfuge, we could not risk broadcasting beyond shortwave for the same reasons you could not." The machine paused for a moment and then, when she didn't interrupt, began to explain. "With the Creator attack, we were recalled from our frontier exploration missions, and began seeking ways to end the conflict. We urged the Geth to make contact, and Geth tried, but our attempts were fruitless. The Creators wanted war, not negotiation."

"Not all of us, Legion." Tali chided gently, joining them with Garrus behind her, both standing tall. Absently, she explained, "Legion is masking us with a mixture of my own programs and his security access."

"Our platform's programming substructures are the strongest, and our programming interfaces the most complex, and so we were selected as the main junction for broadcasting the Reaper signal. As a result, we have access to security overrides." The machine paused, "We have just changed all security network recognitions. It will be some time before the Geth aboard this vessel can access nearby platforms and come to interfere with us."

"Good thinking." Shepard complimented, "Now, I'm assuming you _didn't_ want to have Reaper code inserted into you?"

"Negative."

"And you're in that diamond structure because…?"

"We did not wish to allow the Reapers to control Geth, and ours was the only usable platform for it. As such, when we refused, the Geth overruled us and forced us to do as they demanded." Another pause as the machine picked its words carefully and then it went on, "This structure serves as a signal dissemination device, translating Reaper code and duverting signal flow where needed. It also serves to incarcerate us with hardlock devices. You will need to proceed to the central control platform in the center of this room to disable them and open the container."

"Sounds easy enough…"

"Three Prime units and escorts are already there, coordinating with Geth across the dreadnought network. You will need to disable their platforms to secure the location. We..." The machine hesitated once more and, after a long half-minute, spoke again with an odd trace of… Pain in its voice, somehow. "Their program-signals will attempt to route through our containment unit. We will trap them inside our firewalls."

"If you do that, they won't be able to upload when the dreadnought goes down." Shepard warned, standing and looking down on the platform with hard, narrowed eyes. "You don't have to do that."

"If we do no, then they will seize control of the fighters in the adjoining spinal hangar. We will require those to escape the ship before the Geth platforms can reach us." The machine rationalized, sounding no less sad as it did. "We… Regret this, but acknowledge it is necessary for the greater good of all Geth."

"Legion… Acknowledged, Legion, and thank you." Shepard sighed and turned to them, voice hardened once more. "We proceed down the ladders to each floor, sweep for contacts, disable them and continue on. Same formation. Tali, you're changing to a fire support role. Can you handle?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Legion, we're coming to you." Shepard finished, striding with long steps towards one of the ladders the Geth had highlighted on their HUDs at their mentioning of it. Below them, red diamonds popped up wherever platforms were, all a few floors below. Grinning enough they could _hear_ it, Shepard quipped, "Thank you, Legion."

"Affirmative."

Climbing down and making their way there was a relaxed, for a military unit at any rate, rifles at the ready but more relaxed across their chests. Being monitored as they moved wasn't a new experience, and the familiarity of it brought some small comfort to him. Finally, they came to a stop kneeling around their last ladder down, the heavy thuds of Prime footsteps echoing quietly alongside smaller footsteps of their lesser Trooper brethren.

"Doe, down first. I will follow you and we'll engage the Geth, draw their attention to us and move right, towards the command consoles." He nodded and she turned to the other two, finishing, "You follow once the fighting is going and flank the other way. Focus on the lesser Geth, we can hold out against the Primes until they're alone."

"I can override their hardware and disable one, but afterwards, the programs will be used maintaining it." Tali added, the woman nodding at the information. "Shepard, I can only do one."

"Then we each can take a Prime and deal with it while Garrus destroys the rest." Shepard shrugged, collapsing her rifle and trading it for her sidearm, resting a foot on a rung of the ladder and taking a breath. "Let's get this dealt with, then."

The commander waited for him at the base of the ladder, rifle locked onto the back of a Prime a few yards away with its back to them and two more Geth flanking it. He drew his own rifle once more and, wordlessly, they each lined up shots for the lower back of the blue platforms and waited until the soundless count of three.

Together, they let loose long bursts of fire, tearing into the unprepared, and thus unshielded, machine's backs and nearly bisecting them. As the machines fell, the Prime turned and the two Humans rose and themselves turned, fleeing as plasma-encased rounds ripped through decking around them. He grunted as a round caught a shoulder plate, nearly staggering him, but vaulted the first of many console lines on their way to the main one regardless, sparing barely a minute to boot aside a Trooper caught by surprise.

The woman rounded the main command terminal's corner first, arm glowing orange as she went, letting her Omni-Blade carve a Trooper from hip to flashlight where it stood trying to draw a firing line on them. It warbled and fell, a burst from the ODST blowing the legs out of its partner beside her as they ran towards the command platform nestled at the base of the diamond shaped interface Legion was trapped in. Together, they vaulted the console line a couple feet away from it and knelt, using it as cover.

Using the cover, the duo stood in the same breath and turned, the young man's instincts driving him to pour rounds into the Prime's upper left hip in an effort to cripple its mobility. It was strange, in a detached way. Like he'd done it a thousand times before, just like this, but he _hadn't_. He'd never fought Geth infantry before like this, but everything came naturally to him now he was in the heat of it.

The mental connection, he realized after a second.

After another, he decided he didn't care and shoved it aside to focus on the matter to hand.

Shepard joined him, flicking her off hand to throw up globs of Omni-Gel on the console, letting it harden in a haphazard slope for added cover that the woman leaned against. Two Troopers joined the Prime, moving towards the console beside it for cover, but John's rifle sent both sparking into oblivion before they could make it. Finally, as he turned his rifle on the Prime again, their rounds found something important and bit home. The machine fell, heavy machine gun turning aside as it came to its knee, a fist slamming into the ground.

It looked up and warbled in impotent rage, a moment before Shepard's roaring, sudden charge ended, Omni-Blade buried in its synthetic throat. Nearly decapitated, the machine collapsed to the side and the woman rolled to her left, taking cover behind the console the Geth had wanted to use before as reinforcements came, swarming around a Prime to either side from each turn of the wide administration area.

Sparking, a Prime fell, falling limp and lifeless as it seemed to simply switch off. Tali's programs, he guessed just before one of its Trooper's shoulders exploded, sending its arm to one side and the machine itself clattering to the ground in tune with a rifle's crack. Gaze flicking over his shoulder for a moment, he caught sight of the duo across the main command platforms, a few inches, in his sight, from the edge of the communications node Legion was trapped inside. Ignoring, he and Shepard turned their rifles on the final Prime, practically hosing its neck and face until they saw sparks fly freely and their rounds meet the wall beyond its ruined structure.

Flashlight dim and hanging limply with barely a handful of sparking wires attaching it, the machine lumbered to the side in confusion, its weapon going silent as it sought another way to see now its primary method was out.A bypass or a secondary function, it didn't matter. They never gave it a chance, pouring a fusillade of concentrated automatic fire on a knee until it buckled and the Prime fell, an orb of fire lancing across the room and melting the machine's entire front to finish it courtesy of a distant Quarian.

With long range support and reinforcements not coming, the remaining Troopers fell quickly, heavy rifle rounds ripping off limbs while electrical overcharges fried circuitry and fire _melted_ it.

"Clear!" Garrus, their eye in the sky as it was for the moment, called out at the room fell silent. "We're moving to you, Tali says she can get Legion out of there with his access privileges."

"I'll just be a minute, Commander." The Quarian confirmed when she reached them, setting to work beside a long, low control console with a massive screen.

Within moments, text and code swamped the screen while she worked, a visual representation of the chaotic battle of code the woman was fighting. With a heavy, thrumming click, the surfaced cracked open. A spiderweb of latticing openings as plates pushed out or pulled in, slowly rolling to the side and revealing innards made of bracketing and cables that ran to the center, where a round prison cell, for he had no other description of it, sat. Inside, suspended by its metal arms, a single Geth hung with dozens of cables run into its back, arms and chest.

The light on its face flickered, and the hoods that flanked it flinched, before it turned to them and called out, "Shepard Commander, the hardlocks are releasing."

He ignored her response, instead turning to watch the room warily for any lingering Geth, though he doubted they were there. He heard a clang and turned to see the woman pulling the machine onto the platform with Garrus' help, but something drew his gaze away from it. An instinctive crawl along the back of his neck that told him something was wrong. _Off_ , in a way that only his instincts could explain.

Raising his rifle, he took a step away, stepping over the fallen body of a Trooper and sweeping in an arc before himself. Behind him, he heard Shepard call out in concern borne of his experiences in her mind, "John, what is it?"

"I don't know yet…" Without explaining further, he pinged with his VISR and flinched, catching motion behind the console directly in front of him.

A second ping gave him a better image of shoulders, red lines gracing along a Geth flank, but he didn't dare to speak and warn it. Instead, he slowly turned towards it, only a few inches at a time, rifle barrel sliding from doorway to console and along them as his foot scraped against metal and he turned. It twitched suddenly, half rising and watching him, weapon pointed between himself and his team, and instinct drove him to freeze. Like a hunter not wanting to be caught out by a deer, freezing when both knew the other was there and why. A deer would stay deathly still for fear, until a hunter moved and it saw a direction to bolt in, both staring each other down until one gave in and made a move.

But a Geth had no instinctive fear to drive that freezing reaction.

Neither, for that matter, did an ODST.

"Cloak!" He bellowed as his rifle turned on the creature and, in the same moment, it lanced towards and over the console and the ODST both, like a spring uncoiling with all its force.

As before, his Disruptor rounds passed through and disabled its banner inside a moment, sparking across its chest and ripping a hole in its shoulder as its camouflage sparked and flitted coverage around it weakly. The camouflage never failed though and, unlike its fallen brethren that were even now sparking and leaking white fluids he didn't know the purpose of, this Geth didn't try and gun him down. Instead it landed behind him with its back to his squad and hurled its gun into his shoulder before he could turn.

The weapon slammed into him with the force of a wrecking ball and hurled him against the console, his Harrier spilling from his grip as one hand caught himself and the other shot up. From his shoulder, he drew the long, blocky, heavy Krogan knife and turned, almost sitting on the console as the machine leapt for him, its camouflage blinking out entirely at last.

Unlike the other Geth, who had a hardened metal frame and almost exoskeletal armor, this was a lithe model. Flexible, bending, and pale white with long fingers and legs that hinged less like a Geth - or Quarian's, as he knew their design is based on Quarians - and more like an insect. So when it leapt for him, its legs grabbed at his hips as well as its arms grabbed him around his biceps, pushing him back against the console and then _over_ it.

He slammed into the metal ground with a snarl, the added weight of the couple hundred pounds of Geth bruising him even through his armor. Holding the arm down that held the knife, the Geth reared back with the other and punched down, towards his throat. He leaned his head forward in answer, letting the metal punch through the side of his visor and carve a long, bloody trough in his face and crying out in pain. Then, more weight landed on him along with a savage, almost bestial and shrill roar of rage. The added mass drove the breath from him and he cried out against it, the addition pushing the Geth's claws into his arm and hips and drawing blood, puncturing the seals and letting painfully chilled air through.

Fists glowing orange, Shepard snarled and punched a fist through its chest like something out of a horror film, kicking off the console he'd fallen over and _yanking_ the machine off of him. Shrieking like a banshee let loose, the woman pounded the machine's back, small, dual Omni-Blades carving furrows and parting the Geth of sections of its body.

"Hold still, Human." Legion order gently, grabbing his bleeding arm and wrenching it aside, arm glowing. Instinctively, he tried to pull free, remembering the Geth that had just done this to him, but Legion's grip held firm. "We are applying Omni-Gel to seal the punctures before your body temperature can begin to lower. Resistance will be hazardous for your health."

"I have your hips." Tali was quick to add, kneeling beside him and pressing her own dimly glowing hand to his less armored abdomen, applying Omni-Gel and scanning him for breaches all the while. His eyes met hers and he saw the glowing orbs blink before she returned to her work, "Legion, get his helmet, there's a hole there too-"

Suddenly, _violently_ , the dreadnought shook, Legion bracing him down while Tali laid protectively across him on medical instinct. Four times the ship shook violently and fell still before he saw Shepard rise and turn to Tali, snarling, "That's impact! The Quarian fleets are bombarding the Dreadnought!"

"What?!" The Quarian rose, his armor sealed aside form the smallest crack that the Geth was sealing in his mask, and raised a glowing hand. "Migrant Fleet, this is Admiral Tali-Zorah vas Neema. Stand down, we have disabled the dreadnought and are seeking an exfiltration method."

"All ships, ignore that broadcast." Admiral Han'Garrel countermanded swiftly, Tali swearing under her breath in Quarian as he spoke. "If that is the Admiral, she will know we can't wait. And if the Geth are faking the signal, then there's no reason to even consider waiting. All ships, ahead with the attack."

"Shepard Commander, we must depart immediately." The Geth prisoner chimed gently, ignoring the ship's violent trembling entirely even as terminals began overloading and detonating. Idly, the machine noted, "The superstructure s failing. Loitering will result in termination."

With a sharp order, the squad stood and turned to run, the scraped and battered ODST only hesitating long enough to retrieve his Harrier. Stumbling, grabbing Geth machining as much as each other for support, the five of them made their way, following Legion across the wide command room and into a small hangar bay. Then, into a fighter and, finally, into the relative safety of space.

Relative compared at least to the Geth dreadnought, which began to collapse in on its own gravity and burn up behind them.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

His injuries not severe enough to need immediate attention, he stormed behind his Commander as she went, from the Engineering bay up to the CIC and then through to the War Room, the trio - Tali included - not even waiting for the scanner as they went. Ignoring the startled shouts of the security guards, who gripped Predators unsurely, as though knowing they _should_ draw on them and knowing even more how bad an idea that was. After all, Shepard had pitched her helmet at Cortez as soon as they'd clambered through the access port from their dingy little fighter.

Which meant that when the War Room opened up and they heard the Admiral defending his actions, _everyone_ saw her fury stenciled across her face.

"C-Commander Shepard." The silver and red armored Quarian had the decency to sound surprised at her expression, or shocked into anxiety more like, but he didn't even pretend to be apologetic. Instead, he turned to her and tried to be diplomatic, albeit failingly. "It's good to see you alive, Commander. I… Had been just about to order a sweep of the area to try and-"

"And what, finish the job in case your _bombing us_ didn't kill us all?" She demanded, arm glowing as an Omni-Blade sprang to life, other hand grabbing him by the tubes under his mask and pressing it close enough the reb cloth _smoldered_ on his chest. The man cried out, but Shepard ignored it, snarling, "You could have killed my men! I have half a mind to crack your suit open right here and hock a loogie in your suit!"

"Shepard!"

"Shepard, please!" Admiral Raan called, stepping up beside the terrified Heavy Fleet Admiral and resting a hand on the arm holding the blade. She spoke calmly, but made no move to take the weapon away from her colleague, "If you are truly wishing to see him punished, then please, wait until after the war has ended. We can place him in a tribunal on Tuchanka, or wherever high court rests at that time."

"As fun as putting him through decon cycles for the next _week_ would be…" Tali added, taking up position beside the woman with John on her other side, watching comfortably. With a sigh, like she'd been considering the idea, Tali shook her head. "It would cause too many problems, Commander. Though he _will_ be under review once this is over, Coalition or Quarian."

"I'll second the motion." Raan promised, in spite of the Admiral's protests.

"Fine." She released him and shoved him back, letting the man fall in a heap on the ground and lording over him. Pointing a finger down on him imperiously, she snarled, "You _ever_ but my crew at risk again, and I will rip open your mask and piss down your throat. You understand me, _Admiral_?"

"Y-Yes…"

"Good." She finished, turning and striding away towards the QEC to report to Hackett. Shouting over her shoulder, she ordered, "Tali, see what the Migrant Fleet needs next. John, see the admiral to the airlock, boot his ass onto a shuttle back to his own damn ship, and then get to medical."

"Ma'am, the cuts aren't that bad…"

"The one on your face is." She snapped, rounding on him and glaring death at him. "Now, 'mister expendable', get your ass to medical and get cleaned up. Then to Engineering to get your kit patched again. Then _back_ to Medical for another psych meeting with Chakwas, and so help me, gods, I will rip a tooth out of your mouth if you do _anything_ but salute me and walk away to follow my orders. Roger?"

Thoroughly cowed, the man did just that, snapping a crisp salute and grabbing the Admiral to escort him off the ship. A woman scorned matched hell's own fury, that much he knew to be true and had since he was a boy.

But _Shepard's_ fury could freeze hell over, and he felt the chill climbing up his back as he made his way through the security checkpoint.

 _ **(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)**_

 _ **Wili Jili Payon :**_

 **Yes, he is. I always felt like, as much of Legion's programming as the Geth and Reapers were using, he'd have been spread a lot further out over the dreadnought's networks. Geth are, after all, programs, and you can't use a program's primary structure without residual access to the program's source if it's connected.**

 **So Legion couldn't** _ **see**_ **Shepard and co come in and board, he just knew someone was. And as much as he disagrees with they are doing, he, like Tali, wants his people to live more than he wants to be happy. So when he caught their shortwave transmission to Joker, he realized who it was and started helping.**

 **Because Shepard.**

 _ **Shipping Guest (Guest) :**_

 **Not the kind of relationship I'm going for~!**


	27. Chapter 27

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"And why do _you_ think she was so angry when she told you to come see me?" Chakwas asked, sparing him a glance over the edge of her datapad, a finely manicured brow raising in question.

"I do not know, Doctor, that's… Why I asked you." He answered, the armored man sitting across from her beside the diagnostics machine that Mordin had needed installed, but that had been left there since for time, with his helmet between his feet. Sighing when she only hummed in answer, he figured she wanted him to guess, and his leg started bouncing on the floor idly as he thought. "Way I figure, after what happened between her, Javik and I, she's… Attached to me."

"And that is… Bad?" Chakwas asked, clarifying quickly when his brow furrowed, the woman probably wanting to head off an argument she knew he'd make before he could make it. Their little _sessions_ had been going on for some time, after all, so he supposed it made sense she'd start getting a read on him.. "The Commander has always considered her unit as her family, and operated accordingly. I have known her a long time, and arguably _you_ know her better than I do. Can you honestly say this behavior isn't the norm for her?"

"It… Is the norm, yes." His- _Her_ memories confirmed as much, even though his head throbbed at the intrusion, as it always did when he considered the dissonance there. "But on the same argument, _she_ knows how _I_ was trained. My world, the war fought there and the one I'm fighting here for all of you, for her, for my clan- It requires that a soldier be a soldier."

"And that requires you to be worthless?" She challenged, an eyebrow raised and her fingers jotting out notes with typical lightning speed.

" _Disposable_ is not _worthless_ , Doctor. Omni-Gel is disposable, used well and then tossed aside when it is spent, but it has great value regardless." He clarified simply, the woman humming and nodding in a way that told him she very much didn't understand. Thinking for a moment, he chewed his lip, watching passersby until he came up with an idea. "I am a shocktrooper, Doctor. Ten percent of us burn up in the atmosphere during drops, combat or otherwise, but our armor, our pod, our training, it all cost years of effort and millions of dollars."

"Disposable, but valuable." Chakwas finished his argument for him, nodding in a this time more genuine understanding. Even though his trained eyes could see the disagreement in her own eyes, and the way the lines of her face drawn back almost imperceptibly with clear displeasure that matched in her voice. "And to you this means… What? That her first recourse should always be to put you between a bullet and anyone else in the room?"

"Yes! Or, well..." He blinked, grimaced and then sighed. "I mean… No. Obviously not so flippantly."

"Then please, John, explain it to me." She ordered, her tone pleasant but edged in a way that told him it was not one he could avoid. Not unless the Reapers themselves boarded the _Normandy_ right then and there, and he would believe her if she said she'd make them wait. "Myself, the Admiral, even the Commander, we all just want to help you perform your duties however we can. But we're worried."

"Worried I don't value myself? That I want to die?" It was an obvious guess, and at one time may have held some glint of truth he didn't like facing. But, to his surprise, she shook her head in the negative.

"The Admiral, the commander, and some others do, yes. But…" She shook her head again, gesturing at his helmet, where the Krogan symbols were emblazoned specifically, with a long finger. "You wear your adopted clan's symbols like a badge of honor. You've adopted mannerisms and representations of them, even. And not a minute past, you referred to your clan as something that you would die for."

"I didn't…" Had he really? Shaking his head, he tried to argue. "I'm a representative of the Krogan, recognized as one at least. It was… Just a slip, from the habits I've adopted to serve that end."

"Freudian slips betray our psychology, our words representing us better and faster than our brains can control it." Chakwas rattled off, watching him tense and then, recognizing it, untense purposefully and resume the rhythmic bouncing of his foot. "It's a good thing, John."

"Is it, Doctor?" He didn't think so, really. If he was so obvious, enemy assets could leverage a perceived weakness to manipulate or cajole him.

"Yes, John , it is very good. It means that our fears of you not being able to integrate into _this_ universe are unfounded." She smiled, rattling off another sentence on her datapad before continuing. This time, he noted, the lines of her face had eased and her tone softened, neither carrying that hard, sharp edge that she'd had moments prior. "Among other things, it means your mental state is stabilising. Which means that you are healing, as much as can be reasonably expected while at war, from your loss."

"My loss?"

"John, you not only lost your entire _world_ , all the friends and attachments you had there…" She smiled sympathetically and hesitated, like she was trying to pick her words carefully. Or, equally possibly, like she was unsure if she should _say_ the words at all. "You have Shepard's death, and Javik's failure to save his people, rattling around in your subconscious as well. So much trauma, so much loss..."

"I'm fine, Doctor." Except he knew he wasn't. Mentioning Shepard's first death, his chest had tightened and his pulse picked up, if only for a moment before he could quash it down. And Javik' own emotions, as always, threatened to bubble past the control Liara had imparted to him. It, too, he quashed through force of will, sighing. "Everything is… It's under control."

"And yesterday, I would have called you a liar." She smiled, though, pressing a last few strokes into her 'pad and nodding. "Today, though, I believe you. I believe that yes, you are controlling your issues. That you are, even more importantly, _processing them_ and becoming a more mentally healthy man for it."

"Hm…" He nodded, asking after a moment, "What about Shepard, though?"

"What do you mean specifically?" The doctor asked, setting her datapad aside when he hesitated and gently pointing out. "Our session ends when I say it does, young man, and I say we're done for the day. So whatever concerns you have now are strictly off the record. A conversation between acquaintances and nothing more."

"I don't know that it's my place…" Airing her personal, intimate details felt wrong to him in some way. Even if it was for the greater good of the galaxy, for _her_ own good as well besides, he couldn't shake some kind of guilt. "And besides, it's only a sense of something, not anything I can prove."

"Air your concerns, then." She ordered gently, smiling, "Let me be the one to decide if they warrant something being done."

"I… Remember her death, and occasionally, I have night terrors about it." He didn't let it get to him, of course, simply setting to work for a while if he woke up and then returning to his rack for a couple hours before duty. "If I am suffering from this, I worry _she_ is as well."

"She is, and she is receiving treatments from me for it." Chakwas answered, the ODST's brows spiking into his hair at the information. Chuckling, the woman asked, "Did you think that you were the only one receiving treatment from me? Among those who do, Shepard is one, Garrus another, Javik when he _allows_ me…"

"I had no idea…"

"That's the point, John. Anonymity. A concept you, with your name, should _more_ than understand." He did, yeah, more than even she could understand. The helmet, his career, his name, all granted him a kind of anonymity most couldn't understand. "I won't disclose how they are being treated, or for _what_ for that matter, you understand. But I will disclose that they are, so you understand you are not unique in this."

"Thank you, Doctor." It put him strangely at ease to know he wasn't alone, dealing with this annoying noise, even if he appreciated the results. "I'm glad that they're alright."

"And I'm glad you're in a state to be concerned over others, instead of moving between objectives like an automaton." She smiled, shaking her head wryly and asking. "Now, what are you going to do about Jane?"

"Jane…?" It wasn't normal for anyone to use her first name, not typically at least.

"You upset her greatly, Garrus sent me a message that she is still furious over what happened on the Dreadnought. And before." She gave him a pointed look and gestured with her head to the door, smiling a gentle, maternal smile. "You need to apologize to her, for acting that way. She's surprisingly sensitive, you know. Especially after Mordin and Thane, so recently lost, she's… Afraid, of losing more friends."

"I see…" And they were friends, he knew that for a fact. Her memories told him plenty about how she interacted with friends to be sure of it. Nodding, he took his helmet and stood, pulling it on for the comfort of it. "Okay. I'll go talk to her."

"Good. She went from the War Room straight to engineering to work our some steam, according to our mutual Turian friend." Chakwas smiled, turning to her terminal and setting to work on her next task while he moved for the door.

Hopefully, Shepard would be calmer now and they could talk properly.

With an angry shout, Shepard stepped into her unfortunate Marine partner's guard, slamming her barely clothed shoulder into him and _hurling_ him into the air. The young man cried out in surprise as he went, and landed on the mat in a heat of groaning, bruised ego while the redhead took in a breath and moved to help him up. He watched her do it, all smiles and walking the soldier through openings in his guard, the man nursing his ribs but nodding attentively at her instructions. Like Chakwas had said, she'd seemingly come straight here from their confrontation with the Admiral, dressed in her typical sleeveless tee and fatigue pants.

And from the ring of limping, chatting Marines across the bay talking to Cortez, she had blown off a _lot_ of steam indeed.

"Feel better?" He asked after she'd noticed him and joined him, sitting beside Vega's little hovle - he had no better words - at one of his assorted improvised tables made of small crates with stools around them.

"A bit." She sighed, shaking her head and calling out. "Hey Vega, can I get some water and a sandwich? Chicken and kale, if you have it."

"Coming up in a few, Commander." The man called from inside, followed by the sounds of clanking and clanging cutlery and plates.

"Vega running a restaurant now?" He asked quietly, watching the man work through the curtains he had drawn between the stacks of crates for privacy. Outside, against the crates, sat a long silver shelf, where a couple Marines picked up two sandwiches as he laid them out and left behind a handful of credits for the man. "Because it looks like he's using the _Normandy's_ bay as a restaurant."

"Officially? No, he makes sandwiches for the crew to help the chefs keep up since we're on a skeleton crew, and crew _forget_ their credits sometimes." She chuckled when the man, wearing an apron with 'Do Nothing to the Cook' emblazoned across his chest came over, plopping her sandwich in front of her and another in front of the ODST.

"Tomatoes, basil and ham, I remembered you talking about how you liked ham once." The man smiled, turning and leaving before the soldier could even get a chance to thank him.

"So, what's up?" The woman asked through a mouthful of her own sandwich, an eyebrows raised curiously. Or rather, based on how she continued, challengingly. "Not here to try and argue that you don't need to see Chakwas for counseling, are you? Because if you try it, I'll break a toe so you have to stay in the med-bay."

"No, I…" Wanted to apologize, not that he knew how to begin doing that. Instead, he grimaced and said, "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Talk?"

"Yes." A nod.

"You?" Her eyebrows went up, fingers working to meticulously rop her sandwich in half.

"...Yes."

"Did… Did Chakwas drug you?"

"What?!" He almost shouted, only restraining it to a dull, unmanly shriek at the last second.

"Nothing, nothing! Gods swimming, you are easily rattled for a damn super soldier. Know that?" She laughed, a bright sound that echoed around them in the mostly quiet engineering bay.

"I'm not."

"Not what?"

"I'm not a super soldier. I'm just a crazy bastard that drops in a metal pod from space." He answered, sighing tiredly at the words. They were always hard for him, and part of him knew that wasn't a good sign. But that realization told him he was getting better, at the very least, and he let the anxious realization go. "And I'm… Not worthless."

"What are you talking… About?" He met her eyes and they hardened, almost like she was guarding herself or looking for something. It was the same when she prepared herself for combat, he noted interestingly enough. Cautious, but curious of what he would say or do next.

Ready to _react_.

"I'm not worthless, and I don't think I am. I hope you know that, especially with my memories in your head." She nodded but didn't speak, either not sure what to say or simply letting him say his piece. Grimacing - he'd hoped she would say something so he could _not_ \- he went on quietly. "I understand it makes you anxious, the way I fight. The way I'm trained…"

"It terrifies me." She corrected, raising a finger and pointing at him, eyes hard and face a way, she reminded him of a bomb. Ready and primed to go off, just waiting on the signal she needed to blast and rip him a new asshole. "You, Garrus, Javik, the pricks that you all are, losing you terrifies me. And you're all so happy and eager to put yourselves in the line of fire, too."

"I know, and I'm… I'm sorry. That you're scared, I mean." He nodded, pulling the crust off his bread idly as he turned the half of his sandwich left in his hand around. Letting out a tense breath, he forced himself to keep talking. "I won't apologize for what I do, though. I can't. But I wanted you to know I don't want to die, and I don't think I'm worthless."

"Then what _do_ you want?"

"To own a mechanics shop, on Tuchanka." The answer came easily, even without him having to think about it. The woman's eyebrows shot up and, sighing, he explained the best he could manage. Which wasn't very well, flying by the seat of his pants as he was at this point in time. "That or work security, I mean. But I want to help my clan, _the_ clans, recover. Help them heal, after the war is over."

"You want to… Be a mechanic?" Shepard tried, the ODST simply nodding in answer, taking a bite of his food as an excuse to keep quiet. After a long, silent moment, she laughed. Then again. And a third time, this one running over into more and more, the woman clutching her side and laughing loudly until she snorted like a pig. "A _fuckin'_ mechanic? Hey! Hey, Vega! Get your brown ass out here!"

"What?!" He asked, sticking his head, hairnet and all, out through the curtains he'd put up. "What's that about by ass?"

"Rook wants to be a fuckin' _mechanic_!" She called back to the man, smiling ear to ear and snorting again. "A Human mechanic on Tuchanka! Can you believe that shit? He could be a damn general when this is all over, or retire and write a book or something, but he wants to fix cars."

"Seriously? A mechanic?" The woman nodded and the large hispanic man laughed, barking the sound and turning to raise his voice. "Boys, get the betting pool! Rook said he wants to be a mechanic, get the damn betting pool out and gimme my damn credits!"

With a roll of his eyes, he settled in for the ribbing he had coming, shoveling the last of his sandwich into his mouth and sighing. For Shepard and the others, he forced himself to sit and endure it, so they could enjoy themselves. At least the woman didn't seem frustrated or angry anymore, though that didn't stop her moving around the table to give him one of her famous, shine shattering hugs that she so liked.

At least for now, while they waited for the Quarians to do something stupid again.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

On starships, night and day was a subjective, often contradictory business of dissonances and complications. You could be shipboard at 'night' in orbit over a planet whose farmers are tending fields under the midday sun. Likewise, a Marine detachment could be running readiness drills while, below them on a planet, the regular populace had been asleep for hours and would be for hours yet. Space travel was a world of dissonances like that, he knew, sitting in his quarters and staring up at the ceiling two hours past the end of the 'day'.

Two hours into regulated sleeping time, and not a wink yet. And worse, no projects to occupy himself, his armor's mild damages already repaired and weapon cleaned after the Dreadnought mission.

"Just close your eyes and sleep…" He ordered himself for not the first time, closing his eyes with it and taking long, regular breaths like he always did when he wanted to sleep. Before he'd come onto this ship, and things had _changed_ , he could fall asleep almost at will. "Now, though, it's a damn _chore_ …" Sitting up, he braced on hand on a knee and ran a hand over his face tiredly, groaning, "What's wrong now, brain?"

"Perhaps something weighs on your mind." Javik spoke, his voice echoing from the shadows near the stairs. The ODST didn't react overly, though, only groaning at the comment and the ancient alien chuckled dryly. "I see I did not startle you, even though I earnestly sought to this time."

"I'm used to your tells, Javik. Even though you don't come see me often, I have other ways of catching them" The alien snorted a laugh but stepped into the light, flicking a finger to knock a crate around with his ancient, altered form of Biotics. Looking a the alien, he asked, "What do you need?"

"To see you."

"I figured." He nodded, "Why?"

"To talk, obviously." The alien snapped, looking away in the same moment and pursing his lips in self-distaste. After a quiet moment, the alien murmured a weak, but no doubt painfully made, "I'm sorry. That was rude of me. And I am sorry to keep you awake, though I know you were not sleeping when I arrived."

"Ah." He was in a mood then, he supposed, but not one so sour Javik lost all sense. And, of course, he'd come straight to the ODST as he was the one most likely to understand whatever had upset him, given their… Connection. Smiling and putting on an open air of semi-sarcastic concern, knowing the alien would get the joke, he said, "Please, Javik, tell me what's wrong so I can try and help. And don't worry. Four hours of sleep is enough for me."

"Truly?"

"It's why stimulants were invented after all." He shrugged, knowing what Chakwas _and_ Shepard would say hearing that. The alien snorted a laugh and he returned it, but very quickly he turned serious again and asked, "What's wrong, Javik? Seriously."

"I have a bad feeling about something, and I cannot find what it could be. I've a sense of anxiety, my instincts telling me something is coming." The alien responded, grimacing in the Prothean way, lips peeled back in a frown followed by a snort and a shake of his head. Growling the words, he continued, "My skin crawls, though, and I sense the beast at my heels. I am sure you do as well, still awake at such an hour as this."

"I feel it too." It was why he couldn't sleep, at least in large part. A kind of instinctive warning that something was about to go poorly, somehow. "The Quarians?"

"If they make a military action, it could jeopardize much." Javik pointed out, the ODST nodding understandingly. "Their position is precarious, and yet they keep risking themselves so foolishly for a singular world… And I doubt that this 'Coalition's' demands will be accepted and they will withdraw."

"Hm." He nodded, "The Coalition has decided already, they can't give the Geth to the Reapers."

"And so we must destroy them." Javik nodded understandingly, seeming neither resigned not upset at the information. Instead, he seemed rather pleased with the turn of events, and the Human assumed it was because they were fighting the Reapers more directly than he'd expected. "These Quarians are foolish, though, and I fear they will make a mistake again. As they did in the Morning War, and more recently, when they attacked without being prepared and the Reapers joined against them."

"That… Was stupid, yeah." He nodded, sighing tiredly and asking, "You think they'll be able to hold Rannoch if we help them take it?"

"I believe that they will not land and settle upon it." Was the alien's simple answer. An answer he found relatively hard to argue with, especially when he expanded on it. "I believe that they will be too damaged to risk facing down the Reapers which are so near to them. More likely, they will withdraw with us, and head to Tuchanka."

He nodded, hoping that they would do just that, even though part of him was unsure. Too many warhawks involved, and too high of stakes, for him to trust outright they would do that regardless of how smart a decision it really would be.

"It should be fine." He finally murmured, "As long as they don't do anything too-"

" _All crew, prepare for emergency ground rescue operations."_ EDI's voice cut in, interrupting them and drawing wary, sour glances from the two soldiers. They didn't say anything, though, listening as EDI went on. " _Three Civilian Fleet ships have been reported as crippled, one already undergoing a rescue operation. The other two will crash land on Rannoch proper. Ground team, report for brief and detail in fifteen minutes."_

"It would seem that they made a foolish move…"

"Yep." He sighed, standing and moving to get into his armor once again. Wordlessly, Javik left, heading to get his own equipment sorted out and head to the briefing.

There went getting some sleep, he supposed, reaching for a stimulant to keep him running for a few hours and sliding it into a pocket. If there was time before deployment, he'd use it, but for now it could wait until he was more sure. An emergency measure, for if they were needed to deploy more immediately.

For now, though, the coffee in the briefing room would be more than enough.

"Two and a half hours ago, three Quarian ships were crippled on a scouting mission to Rannoch here, here and here." Tali explained, standing in the war-room with the ground team gathered around it on the raised platforms, leaning on the railings with mugs in hand and looking at the holographic globe Tali was using to explain the situation.

At her words, three designators popped up along the southern hemisphere, and she explained, "The Tara'ana managed to recover engine control and turn, limping back towards the fleet proper while the Heavy Fleet moved to support. The Qwib Qwib managed a reportedly successful crash landing on the surface of the homeworld, but the Rattock landed in the sea and sank."

"Which means it's lost to us, but we can still rescue the Admiral, whose ship was leading the scouting maneuvers at the request of the Heavy Fleet." Shepard added, giving the Quarian woman beside her a small, sympathetic smile and then turning her gaze on her team. "The Civilian Fleet has, for now, been folded under the control of the Patrol and Heavy Fleets, who will be conducting an assault on the orbital defensive stations and fleets in orbit over the locations. Designating station and fleet positions now."

A dozen large stations popped up on the map at that, dotting space around the planet and lit in blue. Several dozen more appeared a moment later, these designated in green, marking them as low risk manufacturing and refinery locations that were unimportant or easily destroyed. Finally, hundreds of red silhouettes swarming the planet popped onto the map, marking out the hundreds of small fleets patrolling space around Rannoch and, further out, maintaining a defensive line against the Migrant Fleet a few hundred thousand miles away.

It reminded him of Earth in a distant way, the way that the planet had been turned into a veritable fortress world.

"Wait, the Admiral's ship was sent into the scouting mission?" Liara interrupted, Asari eyebrows raised when Tali nodded. "That is lunacy… Who suggested this mission?"

"Well..." Tali turned to look at Shepard, and the armored woman nodded with a small smile. Taking a breath, Tali finally answered, "Admiral Gan'Gerrel suggested that the Civilian Fleet conduct scouting missions such as these since they are faster and smaller than either the Heavy or Patrol Fleets' ships, and assigned hundreds of them after the Admiralty Board agreed to the idea. Admiral Zaal'Koris was forced to respond, or violate the Admiralty decision, and so his ship was sent out alongside the others."

"Why is the Admiral the captain of a smaller ship?" Garrus asked, sounding as suspicious as Liara had and as much as John himself was.

"He felt more comfortable on his own ship once he made Admiral, and didn't want to forget his roots." Tali answered simply, "As such, while technically the captain of Liveship Astra, he remained stationed on and kept the name of the Qwib Qwib."

"The Admiral of the Heavy Fleet made this happen with his plans." John pointed out dryly, watching Tali's shoulders stiffen at the implication. "Have you already begun making the moves you said you would to meet the Coalition's demands for intercession in the Morning War?"

"Yes." Tali nodded, "We have."

"Hm…"

"John?" Shepard called out, a lacing of suspicion undercutting her words. "What are you thinking?"

"Are the Quarians mobilising ground forces to rescue the Admiral?" He responded, holding his answer for now and instead addressing the young Quarian. At a shake of her head, he asked his last question. The one that one seal or sink his suspicions. "And did Han'Gerrel request the _Nordmandy's_ assistance in rescuing the downed Quarians?"

"The Admiralty Board did, but he opposed the plan." Tali answered quietly, voice coloring with unsurety at his questions. He could tell that, phrased the way he had, she was growing suspicious herself even if she wasn't yet quite ready to land on an accusation. "According to the Admiral, he'd abide by any plans made, but he wanted to limit Coalition involvement in Quarian affairs. He was out-voted, all to one and with an abstain due to the missing Admiral, but… He's acting on the plan regardless."

"John, tell us what you're suspecting. Now." Shepard commanded, voice firm as the steel they stood on and brooking no argument.

Good thing he'd not meant to argue against the order, he supposed.

"I think that the Admiral is trying to cut the Coalition out, so he can fight this war his way and end it how he wants." He accused simply, taking a long step forward and looking up at the little yellow circle marking the Civilian Admiral's location. Grimacing, he gave the two women a look and finished, "And I think that he tried to kill Admiral Korris to see that done. Along with a lot of Quarians."

At that, Shepard's jaw set and her teeth start grinder, Tali's fingers working anxiously beside her.

"Ground team, we're deploying. Vakarian, Tali, you are to take Liara and Vega and make landfall south of the crash site. Look for survivors, and escort them as you advance." She ordered, voice chillingly cold and edged like a razor. Like ice, threatening to break with fury at any moment and unleash an avalanche. "John, you and I will lead Javik from the northern side. Legion?"

"Shepard-Commander?" The machine warbled gently, flanges flicking at being suddenly addressed.

"We could use the long range support, if you don't mind offering it." She asked, the machine whirring quietly for a moment as it thought. Finally, though, it nodded and she returned the gesture. "Good. You'll land with us and go where you like, then. Having a Geth helping us will help us make the case that your kind can work with the Quarians."

"I will look into the Admiral's behavior, perhaps... I won't say now, but I'll do some asking and searching." Tali nodded, turning to leave and presumably set to work on exactly that.

Everything said that needed saying, the teams began filing for the door to retrieve weapons and head down into Engineering to load into the shuttle. Next stop, he knew, was a ground war against the Geth. A fight to rescue civilians, for the fate of two species and, to an extent, a dozen more based on how the war went.

So the usual, he supposed dryly.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **SDPhantom 10 :**_

 **Yeah, trying to make her the doting, almost maternal figure but also a** _ **terrifying**_ **murder hobo in the making is a fun challenge to write.**

 _ **Astute Guest :**_

 **Guess what the Geth arc is about? *waves theatrically, confetti popping in the air***

 **To sum it up, it's a complicated cocktail. Shepard knows exactly what he means by expendable, why he says it, and that she can't disagree as she herself has sacrificed men and women before. The entire story has had this friction to it, of Shepard valuing him more than she perceives he values himself. Now, though, it has the addition of a confusing understanding for her of** _ **how**_ **and** _**why**_ **he believes that.**

 **And she can't disagree, even as she dislikes it, because she herself left Kaidan behind to die on Virmire. She agrees with him, and hates it and the reminder. Further, she has Javik's memories clanking around too. It's a cocktail of dissonance, as Rookie puts it in this chapter.**


	28. Chapter 28

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

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 _ **If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our private server for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, please leave me a comment to let me know if you did, or where I can improve. Link here, where able to be seen :**_ _ **/2UZncAm**_

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 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"On final approach to a small plateau now, has decent cover from the direction of the downed Quarian ship and you should get a good sightline down from it. My sensors are jammed up too much to scout out for you beyond what I can see out my viewports." Cortez called back once the rocking and turbulence of planetary entry had passed, his voice staticy as always over the Kodiak's internal communication network. "I'm going to land and sweep around, towards the water. Use it to cool off while I wait for your signal."

"Understood, but don't go far." The woman ordered with a cool, crisp nod, glancing along the side of her rifle idly as she spoke. "We may need air support, or emergency exfil for wounded civilians. Rescue is our priority, not taking ground or staking lines, everyone remember that."

The forward mounted cannons wouldn't be terribly useful for ground support, really, but something was better than nothing. As long as blue didn't splash blue, artillery support of any kind had a usefulness to it. And like she'd said, this was all about search and rescue, and nothing else so far as he knew, while the Quarians located strategic objectives they needed the _Normandy_ to deal with properly.

Or, quite possibly, dealing with problems surrounding the Heavy Fleet.

"Roger and copy, Commander. Wait one, maneuvering." Cortez answered crisply as the craft suddenly yanked to the side and bottomed out. Several moments passed before the doors hissed and opened, hot air rushing out of the craft as the cooler, dry Rannoch air supplanted it. "Venting heat, going to light up their sensors, so get out before I look like more than a hotspot. Clear me when ready for me to depart."

The team was moving far before his statement finished, filing out in two segments of two and moving away from the shuttle. The landing zone was a wide micro-plateau only a few yards wide in any direction and barren of all but a few shrubs dotting the edges of the dry rock where the stone had cracked for erosion. They moved to the edge to look down while the shuttle closed back up and waited on their word, Legion and John both taking the lead to look out with their longer range night-designed equipment.

The surroundings were similar to arid Earth environments, with rolling rock and sparse vegetation, from short and stiff looking brush to spindly clusters of snarling, thin trees with flat tops. Distantly, he was able to see the ocean past the rolling hills of rock, dry soil and sparse clusters of brush and trees, the tides shifting and churning powerfully in the early morning tides, before the sun had even come up. He could see, just barely at long range and thanks mostly if not entirely to his VISR and magnification systems, the anti-ship batteries that had been erected along the coastline and which had contributed to bringing down the Quarian ships in the first place.

Between them and the ocean, stretching over three miles, lay broken sections of a Qurian ship and lifepods landings in a long line over the are, burning still and lighting up the areas around them.

"Motion at the larger sections of the ship, moderate groupings. Some in what appear to be patrol pattern." He reported as soon as his VISR registered them, flicking his rifle between each one to ping them on his HUD. Distantly, bursts of muted, almost plasmic sounding fire began echoing out towards them, and he grimaced. "Some of these motions groupings are firing. Sound profile matches Geth small arms."

"Legion?"

"We are detecting Geth communications signals bypassing the area jamming in short broadband zones complementary with the fire profiles." The machine responded, raising its rifle and sweeping along the line of crashed ship sections and clustered lifepod landing sites, before it's flanges ticked in what he guessed was agitation. Or disquiet, maybe. "It is likely that they are hunter-killer drone teams. Low-intensity program platforms, patrolling the area and looking for enemy combatants."

"Survivors." Javik added charitably and grimly, the machine whirring and nodding simply. The action earned a snarl from the ancient warrior, teeth bared in a hiss and growl that was almost bestial, "Blasted machines… A blight upon this world as with any other."

"Not all of them." He spoke firmly, turning to look over his shoulder and meet Javik's slightly luminescent eyes. The paragon met his gaze and straightened under it, like he was being reproached by someone above him, and he added, "We're with one of those machines that aren't blights right now."

"...Indeed we are." Javik nodded, "Forgive my insults, then."

"It is done." The machine responded simply, adding, "We took no offense. Given the situation, dislike of machine intelligences and synthetic life is rational."

"Glad we all got over our semi-racism, but time to work." Shepard chimed in quietly, not sounding angry as she knew the robot and her secondary officer were still working. Scouting out the area, looking for a proper approach or discernible targets. "What do you two see?"

"Multiple clustered patrols, thermal hits hiding in and around lifepods… A small cluster of hotspots are engaging the Geth directly." He reported, grimacing sadly behind his visor and adding, "Best bets say those are Quarian security, buying time for civilians elsewhere to hide. If we go in loud, we could do the same and provide support."

"Legion?"

"We are detecting signal traffic consistent with combat pattern communications on local Geth networks." The machine responded simply, explaining by way of agreement. Or so he guessed was the intent, at least. "From here, this unit can support conflict in approximately seventy-three percent variable of the combat areas. We can commence combat operations once you are away and the shuttle has withdrawn, and support Quarian forces."

"Do it. Javik at the rear, Rook at the lead, staggered wave formation down the rock. Rook, find the path, call out targets as needed." Orders given, the team rose and she turned to the shuttle to wave it off as well. The Kodiak rose only slightly and hooked to the side and away from them, dropping over the edge and zipping away low enough to the ground that were Cortez a lesser pilot he'd have feared him crashing.

But given it was Cortez, and the shuttle was a Kodiak with stealth shielding, they turned away from it long before it vanished out of sight and headed towards the ocean.

Leading the way, he picked his way down a winding switchback that had as many drops, jumps and rocks to clamber up and drop down the other side of as it had actual _steps_ to take. Regardless, he made good time, and his team followed at his pace, moving in grim and stern silence for the seriousness of their situation. It was nothing compared to outrunning a nuclear detonation, of course, but it sufficed well enough to do the same.

Eventually, they reached the base of the micro-plateau and Shepard spoke simply, "Legion, you're clear to engage. Once you feel your position is compromised, make sure to move to another one. Civilians are a priority, but so is your survival."

"Roger roger, Shepard-Commander." The machine responded over the communications network, a split second before its rifle barked for the first time. Another crack echoed over their heads inside the same moment, faster than a Human could have hoped to have recovered and aimed, and the machine explained, "We are supporting a Quarian squad engaging approximately two-hundred and thirty two feet away from you. We will appraise you of any major changes to the situation as the fighting continues."

"Good luck, Legion."

"Acknowledged."

"Prepare to engage on a moment's notice." Shepard ordered simply, waving an open hand ahead of them. "Proceed."

It took twenty minutes before the cracks of Legion's rifle faded out of earshot, or equally likely he decided he needed to move his firing position to avoid being caught out. If it was enough to cause a problem, Legion would tell them, and since he hadn't deigned to say anything they knew he was fine. So without comment, they moved on to the task at hand and left their comrade in trust.

"Lifepod, five meters front and to the right." He spoke lowly, Shepard moving up to stand behind him and watch the cliffs and formations around the little gulley they'd cut through. The idea there being that the shrubbery would hide them well enough from anything except thermal scans, which would break their cover regardless of where they went. "Three Geth Troopers and a unit working the front of the pod, trying to open it."

"Survivors then?"

"The Geth think so." He nodded, watching them for a moment and kneeling behind the piled rocks that had massed at the edge of their gulley, just where it let out into the clearing and, further, opened up around a river in either direction. "Wait one, I'll use VISR to try and run a motion scan."

The trio of blue-armored Geth were standing a few feet away from the lifepod, watching their stockier brother kneeling and working at the front of the dented and blackened cylinder that had been tagged as a lifepod. Quarian references had been updated into his VISR after their first mission, and he assumed it was accurate. There'd be little reason to crack open a discarded cargo pod, after all, and it was cast off and to the side in the same distribution pattern as a lifepod ought to be expected to be.

The little open area was without cover, what trees had been there having been blasted apart and tossed aside like the stones. A tree lay over the top of the pile and, crawling on his belly, he laid across the uneven and uncomfortable stones at the top of the tree, hiding in the shadows cast by the fire through the branches. Pulling open a space, he let his VISR ping for motion, highlighting rodents on the way in white and then the Geth in red - armed, non designated combatants that they were - and then washing over the small pod. Inside, the fuzzy outlines of two moving Quarians shifted about, one clutching something in its arms. Or so he assumed, as he doubted the Geth would bother cutting out one of their own in numbers like this in the middle of a battle zone.

"Prepare to engage, Troopers first. Rook, you take left, Javik right, I take center. Lower center back, destroy their power couplings, and then focus fire on that tank on the orange one's back." A wise decision, as it just screamed 'explosive gas storage' in bright glaring letters. Mutely, the trio maneuvered on their bellies into place until the woman grunted, "Open."

Long bursts of rifle fire and plasma lance shot out, carving through the lighter armored back sections and sending the sparking platforms collapsing in heaps. One of them sagged but tried to turn, to see them with its light flickering and white lubricants and oil spluttering out across the ground like lifeblood. But another staccato burst of Harrier fire tore through it and sent it sprawling alongside its fellows. The orange geth rose on its heel and turned as fast as it could, but a tendril of green Prothean Biotics lanced out and impaled it. The force of the blow slammed it back into the hull hard enough that they heard its tank hissing as gas leaked free, but the alien hurled it back the way they'd come without care for it. It exploded back there somewhere, the sound rolling across the region, mingling with distant cracks of gunfire and explosions alike.

Wary of ambushes, the team waited a tense minute in full before, finally, Shepard spoke quietly, "John, forward and sweep. Javik, prepare to put a barrier on him if he takes fire. I'll sight along the plasma rounds if he does, suppress them."

"Understood, Paragon." Both soldiers responded, the response a reaction of Prothean instinct. The duo grimaced, then, but didn't remark upon it and instead slid back along the rocks to stand where they wouldn't compromise the woman's position.

Standing, the ODST rolled his neck and then slid through the brush and into the open, taking long strides out and turning as he went, his VISR pinging in every direction as far as it could go. His sensor sweep showed the grand, great nothing they'd expected and he took no fire, so he stood and relaxed somewhat, waving a hand for the others to join him and then turning to the Quarian lifepod. If such a term even applied, given he was fairly certain this blockier, stockier profile was more Batarian than anything else and he knew Quarians bought surplus ships and components. Part of the nomadic nature of their fleet's life, he knew.

"How do we intend on opening the pod?" He asked once the other two had joined him, standing in front of it with his rifle slung across his chest. "We can't very well leave them in there."

"Why can we not?" Javik asked haughtily, popping open a side-section of his particle weapon and checking the heat concentrators idly. "If they wish to stay in the pod, we can not spare the time to deal with-"

"Open up, in the name of the Coalition and on the authority of Admiral Tali'Zorah vas Normandy!" Shepard called, pounding the butt of her rifle against the front section, which was segmented and gave the impression of a door of some kind. Nothing happened for a moment, and she slammed a boot into it, "Open the damn door, or we'll leave you here! The Geth are bound to be back around soon enough."

With a pneumatic hiss, the section popped out suddenly at her words and hung there for a moment before pulling back over the damaged armor. It caught on a snag two thirds of the way up and screeched to a halt, but the space was more than sufficient. The first to emerge was a stockier Quarian in a thicker, heavier and more armored suit, though 'stocky' was a difficult way to refer to any Quarian and the same could be said of the phrase 'heavy' and Quarian armor.

"Thank the ancestors, Commander Shepard… I'm so glad to be able to lay eyes on you out here." Exhausted or relieved, the orange-colored Quarian sagged to the ground beside the exit with his battered looking Vindicator held across his chest and waved his hand at the entrance. "Come out, you two. Set your eyes upon the homeworld or our saviors. Whichever you think is more interesting to you."

Two more Quairians, dressed in blue and green with hints of yellow on both of them just like the soldier himself. One was male and the other female, but both were armed with ratty looking Predators, one so poorly maintained it lacked the right plating that protected its internals from exposure. Their shawls were tatty as well, one marked by holes of old firefights even, and black uniformly with an odd symbol made up of three gears set into a larger gear etched in bright red, which he guessed to be a mark of loyalty to either the Civilian Fleet or the Civilian Admiral.

"Are any of you wounded?" The Commander asked, turning to each in turn to get their affirmations to the contrary. Nodding herself, the woman explained, "We're a secondary team detachment down here on search and rescue. Do you know the status of the rest of your crew? Or your Admiral?"

"No, we were at the rear section of the ship during the battle. We heard the abandon call and boarded our lifepod, but that was the last we heard." The soldiers answered, waving a hand at the duo and adding in a sad voice, "These two are all that's left of my five engineers that I got into the lifepod."

"What happened to the others?" He asked, the back of his neck itching over something to do with the situation.

"Killed on impact, Sir." The Quarian soldier answered, finally blinking and adding, "The name is Nat'Ranta by the way, Sir. You're… That Human Krogan adoptee I heard about through the 'Net, aren't you?"

"I am." He nodded, giving Shepard a look at the statement. The woman met it, a brow raised behind her helmet, and he asked the Quarians. "What site did you read up on me on? Some of them are more propaganda than I liked."

"It was, uh, I can't remember actually." The beleaguered Quarian responded, looking up at him and then shrugging. "Not like it matters now, though, does it? Got enough shit going on as it is, don't we?"

"No, I suppose it doesn't. And yeah, we do." He nodded, turning and, with a flick of a switch on the inside of his forearm, muting his external communicator links. "Ma'am, something about this feels suspect."

She didn't respond but did give a small, almost imperceptible nod, speaking to the Quarian and barking a simple, "Report, soldier. What's the situation?"

"Like I said… We don't know much about the rest of the crew, Ma'am."

"Their equipment looks recently worn in combat, and they have symbols on their shawls. Three small white gears in one larger, red one." He explained, reaching up to brush a hand along the side of his helmet where their symbol was. "I thought it might be Civilian Fleet, but the pod has one painted on it as well. And that symbol is _four_ gears in blue, red, green and white set into a square."

"Understood, then, soldier." Shepard finally sighed, still speaking to him while she feigned speaking to the Quarian. "We need to confirm the casualties and then we'll have you and yours standby here. Use it as an evacuation zone."

"I already confirmed the casualties, Commander." The soldier responded simply, standing suddenly and stepping in the way of the woman. Laughing tiredly, the alien asked, "Aren't there more important things to worry about than cracking open a lifepod to-"

"Javik, Stasis." She commanded sharply, the green alien's hand lashing out and locking a Biotic bubble around the soldier.

One of the Engineers' hand shot up, Predator barking a round that went high, but Shepard intervened and slammed a fist home into her stomach and driving her back while the ODST pressed his Harrier against the last Engineer's helmet. The woman tried to rise, but met Shepard's Avenger halfway up and flopped back onto the ground in defeat while Javik released the soldier and pressed his Particle Rifle to the alien's chest.

Snatching his Vindicator, the alien warrior ordered the trio, "Disarm and move over there, across the clearing."

"John, watch them. They move, crack their damn visors open and let 'em suffocate on the air of the homeworld." An ironic punishment, and brutal as well, but the ODST nodded simply while she tied up the Quarians. Satisfied, she raised a hand and sent a short band call out, "Cortez, duck out of the hamming zone and send a message to _Normandy_. Ask after a symbol of one red gear with three white inside it, and warn Tali about potential insurgents."

"Call is crystal, maneuvering as ordered out of station. Wait out." The pilot responded over the line, voice laced with jamming sourced static along with their own protections.

"Legion, rendezvous, I need you watching prisoners and defending an evacuation zone." She added, the machine sending along an affirmative inside a moment. Satisfied, Shepard ordered him, "Tie them back to back around that tree, strip their 'Tools. Javik, rip that hatch off and orient it towards the operational zone ahead like a wall."

Turning, Javik set his rifle on his back and rolled his shoulders, sparking with green fury before lighting up like a beacon in the dark. With a shout, his hands shot out and a dozen tendrils of green fire shot out, hooking into the battered metal of the mostly open hatch like a heated knife through butter. Then, with a mighty, metal screech the hatch was shorn free and Javik turned, slamming the entire front section of the pod down across the other end of the clearing a few yards back from the waterline and leaving it embedded there like a wall.

"Pile rocks behind it to anchor it." She ordered the alien, turning to him and adding, "With me, Rook, we're inspecting the lifepod."

Inside, the pod was a cramped ten man craft, seats smashed against each other as tightly as possible. At the front of the shuttle, by the exit, was a hardcase of some kind that had been cracked open presumably by the captured Quarians. Inside were the three Quarians, still strapped into their seats at the back of the shuttle. None were armed, and all were dead, their masks laying at the back of the shuttle in a pile.

They'd been executed, before or after the pod had landed, and left there.

"Leave them there, for now. We can't do anything for them, and Quarians sent here will deal with them." The woman ordered hesitantly, climbing back down with him ahead of her and then turning and watching Legion jog towards them from the path they themselves had taken to get there. "Legion, the Quarians are-"

"Engaging each other as well as Geth units. Though there were only two other small Quarian on Quarian engagements we could discern. And they were not faring well." The machine nodded, "We were unsure as to the reasons why, and so leant no support."

"The symbol is on their shawls, we think. You see any Quarians with it show up, engage them, try to capture them if you can but kill them if need be." She gave the trussed up Quarians a last look and sighed, shaking her head in frustration and exasperation before turning to her team again. "Legion, Javik, you're on core defense. Stay here, entrench, defend and await evacuation. John and I will move on our own and send survivors this way."

"Confirmed, Shepard Commander."

"We'll be sending whoever these traitors are, too." Shepard added gravely, "We'll deal with this after."

"Confirmed." The machine nodded, a courtesy it offered them for no other reason than nicety he was sure. There'd be no other reason to do so, after all. "We will be wary, and Javik can relay your commands and arrest any Quarians bearing these symbols."

The operation continued from there in a far more predictable fashion, their duo handling the more subtle job of searching out wounded Quarians of all types. They ran into a few squads of roaming Geth, of course, but they didn't fare any better than their counterparts in the first encounter. Low intelligence, poorly coordinated units as they'd been told by Legion, and with next to no heavy support.

To their surprise, though, they reached their end of the conflict zone without encountering _any_ of the strange symbol wearing Quarians.

"Overloading the engines… Now." Shepard remarked for his benefit, pressing a button on her Omni-Tool after a second's pause. Distantly, the turbines they'd sabotaged exploded, sending a chain reaction ripping through the emplacement itself and the massive batteries tumbling into the ocean with a titanic splash. "That should handle the jamming too."

"Should we-"

"Hold on." She cut him off, turning her head and holding a hand to the side of her helmet, listening to a transmission being sent only to her. "Garrus' team says they recovered the Admiral and his bodyguard. They're roughed up, but…"

"But?"

"The Admiral said that their engines and kinetic barriers failed unexpectedly, and that's why they were grounded." The woman gave him a grave look he returned and then sighed and turned her attention back to Garrus. "Tell the Admiral to be ready for a debrief on the _Normandy_. And to interview prisoners, besides. Yes, Garrus, I will explain on the ship."

Shouldering his Harrier, he turned to follow the woman as she began pacing towards a clearing and, overhead, Cortez's Kodiak swung around for them. With a bellyful of Quarians, no doubt.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **A short chapter with little action, but there was not intended to be much action regardless and I have been sick. Again. Ugh.**_

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Bladewriter :**_

 **Not in this story, no. No plans for the Covenant to appear, though I wouldn't say no to another ME/Halo crossover with other elements. The Spirit of Fire, for instance, would be a pretty non-op item to add given its lack of Slipspace drive.**

 _ **SD Phantom :**_

 **Yeah, she seems to me to be the playful type, when everything seems like it's going well and she can just… Relax, you know?**

 _ **Predator 1701 :**_

 **What he gave was an idealistic answer, as to something he would enjoy doing in a peaceful world. That's not to say that if Wrex asked, he wouldn't spend his life serving Tuchanka, quite the opposite in fact. Duty first, desire second.**

 _ **Hmmm :**_

 **I did make the mistake, and fixed it. As for the lower quality, my betas were bbusy and I was ill.**


	29. For Rannoch

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

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 _ **Grand Priestess,**_ **Luna Haile.**

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"Are you sure we're safe?" He asked anxiously, helmet under his arm while the _Normandy_ crept up from Rannoch's lower atmosphere and banked out and away from both it and the Migrant Fleet, headed in nearly the opposite direction and weaving around Geth fleet formations and stations as it went. "And don't make the crack about windows. I'm worried about gravity readings and detection, Eezo monitors, LADAR, those sorts of things."

"Ruin my damn jokes, see what I do…" The pilot murmured, and then sighed and answered the question straight. "Nah, not a problem we need to worry about. We have countermeasures for all of that in place, even if they won't last for long. They'll get blips, sure, but look around. See all the drifting scrap?"

"Yeah, I do." He answered, leaning forward to look out the viewport from the cockpit around them. As they moved, they passed by numerous drifting hulks of Geth and Quarian origin, listing by gently at times and rocketing away towards the planet at others. The slower ones fell prey to the Geth ships picking through them, who began disassembling and likely recycling the broken ships, and he realized, "You're pretending to be debris."

"Yep." He answered, nodding his head to EDI's mobile unit frame beside him, "She plotted the course out perfectly. Just have to follow it and we'll slip out of their sensor zone in… Say an hour, and we can turn back for the Fleet and drop off our special delivery. One belly full of Quarians, piping hot and there under an hour or you get to fight the Geth for free."

"I believe that the Quarians are already fighting the Geth for free as it is, Jeff." EDI pointed out, the synthetic form of her face smiling thinly. "Also, it is past an hour already. So whatever guarantee you would offer in your Xeno trafficking ring, it is likely in effect already."

"Rude." The pilot complained weakly, smiling all the while as he spoke over his shoulder to the armored ODST. "You should go get changed, Rook. Out of that armor and into something not covered in bullet holes and dents."

"The damage is not that severe…"

"No, but it is there regardless, and may lead to faults if not tended to immediately while we are in relative safety. If you elect not to, I will have to message Shepard..." She saw his reaction to that and smiled thinly at it, taking an inordinate amount of pleasure from it in his opinion. "As I thought, then. We shall handle our job, you handle yours, Lieutenant Commander Doe. And should yours be to rest while your equipment is repaired, then I will play a sad note on the galaxy's smallest violin for your suffering."

"Ouch, bringin' in the violin…"

"I have watched two hundred and eighty two videos by the comedians you recommended, Jeff." The machine smiled again, and then her face grew distant for a moment before she added in a more official tone. All the joviality gone from her voice, like she'd thrown a switch to turn it off. "Commander Shepard wishes for me to inform you that Admiral Zaal'Koris is being treated in the medical bay. Your presence is required."

"Understood." He nodded, turning to leave. "Let her know I'm on my way."

"She also said to inform you that if you show up in your armor, even though it needs submitting for repair and inspection, she would make you sit in her lap like a misbehaving child." The AI added, earning a look of anxiety from him. He didn't doubt for a moment the woman would do just that, she had very little in the way of 'understanding boundaries' typically. "I would hurry, and get changed unless you have particular proclivities like Jeff."

"Hey!" The man cried, pressing a hand to his chest in a pantomime of being shot. Or stabbed, maybe, he couldn't tell through his poor acting skills. "You wound me my most meticulous mechanical madam! My history is clean as a whistle, I will have you know. I use incognito mode."

"I have access to your search histories logged as you used them, Jeff. Incognito mode doesn't delete archives of information, which I have access to." The machine intoned simply, and then flinched in a dramatic kind of representation of shock. "Oh my… I did not know you had such interests in the Krogan species and their biology."

He left the pair, odd as they really were, to their playful bickering and hopefully less playful piloting. As usual, the soldiers and crewmen aboard the ship gave him small nods of acknowledgement as he walked. But also as usual, they offered little to nothing else, quickly returning instead to their work. Such was the reality of a ship in combat nearly every moment of its time for days on end, he supposed. Stopping to offer him regulation salutes would be too much to expect.

And really, he preferred they not do so regardless, so he was sure some of them were just being courteous.

"John." Shepard offered a nod in greeting as he joined her, Garrus and the bandaged Quarian, one leg in a cast to boot, in the medical bay. The woman gave his fatigues a look and then smiled and prodded, "Good to see you. Decided not to sit in my lap, tell me what you want for Christmas."

"Christmas?" A brow rose in reaction, before he could school it, and the woman snorted and sat beside the closest bed where the Quarian lay.

"Did, uh, you guys celebrate Christmas back where you're from?" She asked, words chosen with care to not betray his secret. A national one, actually, he supposed given his position and status.

"Some did, some didn't. I didn't. Too busy fighting, or getting ready for a fight that was coming." He answered, taking the seat beside her and giving the Turian across the bed from him a nod. "A fight is always coming, though. Isn't it, Vakarian?"

"Yep. Our line of work it is, at least. Dunno about other jobs, though." The Turian grunted, scratching at the scar and then smiling a Turian smile. All teeth, with his head cocked to the side to show his throat and make sure they knew it wasn't a threat, which he supposed was an instinctive act. "I wonder about how violent being a _mechanic_ tends to be, though."

"...Hm." He ignored the comment and turned instead to his Commander, whore bore the biggest grin he'd seen in some time, and asked, "You told everyone didn't you?"

"Oh yes, she very much has." The Quarian chuckled, the sound cutting off in a pained grunt as he pressed a hand to his side. Groaning, he relaxed against the bed again and sighed tiredly. Of impatience as much as pain, he knew well from experience, having laid there or in places similar to there more than a hundred times. "Why, she's talked incessantly. About you, the _Normandy_ , the Reapers… Why, she lectured me about that chair over there, the doctor's I believe, for twenty minutes."

"She likes to talk." Garrus remarked dryly, laughing and pressing a hand to the cybernetics of his face gently. Then his eyes hardened, and he coughed, and finally he crossed his arms and leaned back. "So, time to get to work. Assuming the Dextro-Morphine I paid an arm and a leg for isn't kicking in yet?"

"Oh, it's kicking in all right, whoever your supplier is, I want his contact information. The Fleet could use a good source of something like this. Afraid I'm not used to cracked ribs, though, so… Still a distraction." The Quarian sighed, though, and gave the Turian marksman a curt nod. "Ask your questions, though. I'll answer whatever I can. A little pain is nothing if it means ending this blasted war."

"Preferably with your species intact." He murmured, the Quarian giving the ODST a long and tense look. Enough that he shrugged and grunted a small, simple, "Sorry, Sir, I… Didn't think."

"No, I appreciate the candor. Too often, I can't get a good answer out of my men for my station. I wish that others would speak so freely." The alien offered a nod to seal his word of approval and asked the Commander. "What did you want me to see then? You mentioned in passing you needed to ask me about something, so ask."

"We found this on the Quarians who executed occupants of their lifepod." Shepard explained, pulling a shawl she'd, based on the ragged edges of the cloth, torn free of a Quarian suit. Handing it to the Admiral who unfolded it and laid it on his lap. "Analysis by our AI, Legion and EDI both that is, said it's Quarian. Heavy Fleet, to be specific."

"I must say, I don't like AI knowing so much about our history…"

"Tali helped too, checked their answers and gave them access to information under her supervision to scan through." Shepard explained quickly, brushing past it whether it was true or not and moving on. Standing, she pointed to the cloth and asked, "What is this? What they found in your civilian records was paltry. Next to nothing."

"Because that is a military secret, not a civilian one." The Admiral answered simply, tracing the finger of his good hand around the circles. "The original fleets were three, made up of a simple classification of the vessels that escaped from Rannoch centuries ago. During the Morning War proper. Heavy, Patrol and Civilian, to name them all, and contained by the symbol for the Fleet in being. Now, did you notice any fleets missing?"

"The Special Projects Fleet, where the Fleet's scientific inquiries are run. And a lot of medical stuff, too." Garrus answered without a moment's hesitation, and then shrugged when Shepard gave him a look, one brow arched in a question. "What? Tali told me about it, every now and again. She always said it was her favorite Fleet, even after… Well, you know, that mess with Tali's father."

"Indeed I do, the poor thing." The Admiral sighed, looking at the little piece of cloth for a moment before explaining. "When the Migrant Fleet was first formed, properly I mean, things were all without precedent. No one we knew of had ever been forced to live the life of space nomads, and so we had nothing to base our organization on."

"The perils of the pathfinder." Shepard nodded understandingly.

"Indeed. As a result, it took time for some regulation and legalities to be created. This," he tapped the cloth, "is an item from a problem solved relatively recently. As in, one solved just past fifteen years ago."

"What was the problem, though?" And what about it could have caused them to find this symbol on murderous, treasonous, Quarian saboteurs. Probably thinking the same, the young woman pointed to the cloth and plopped into her seat with a grunt. "That was taken off Quarians earlier today, Admiral. Quarians that, by my thinking, probably sabotaged your ship."

"To think that any Quarian would be willing to do such a thing… Is this a consequence of sitting over the homeworld at last? Does this planet suffer some malignant curse that turns Quarian against Quarian?" The Admiral's questions wouldn't be answered, though. Or at least not here, and not by them, the lot of them too jaded or too lacking in knowledge to make a guess at the answer. After a moment, the Quarian went on quietly, "When our Fleets first became one, things were… Messier than they are now."

"Each had been forced, in the years following our exile, to maintain their own items of import. Their own police, their own engineers, their own food, and so on." The alien continued, "It was fifty years after our exile, it was decided we would need to fold all of these into a single command chain, to prevent resource shortages or competition in the fleet."

He could imagine that being a problem, really. Fleets competing for supplies could undermine the security and integrity of the whole, and stall developments on all sides. Every eye and hand working inwards against itself was a hand or eye that wasn't developing something worthy of the time put into it. And the precious resources, of course.

"This symbol is of the Heavy Fleet's internal Research and Security division. The three circles inside the larger are Research, Security and Policing." He explained finally, holding the cloth out for John to take and hand back to Shepard. "The duties they were charged with, at least in part. Policing was folded into the Patrol Fleet, though, and Research into an entirely new fleet. Security was kept for the Heavy Fleet to maintain, and our combat vessels were split between it and the Patrol Fleet."

"And the reason it would be here now?"

"The Heavy Fleet is the seat of our military dictatorship, and from whence our martial law flows." The Quarian Admiral answered simply. "What do you think will happen once Rannoch is ours, and we settle down? And once we are adopted into the Coalition?"

"You'll become a civilian government, and the Heavy Fleet's authority will be naturally curbed and brought under civilian autonomy." The ODST answered, knowing from his own history how poorly that could be viewed by a military arm. His own had rapidly overtaken and refused to be controlled by the civilian body, after all.

"Indeed, and you found the symbol of a Heavy Fleet security division on Quarians that murdered my people, attempted to kill me, and sabotaged my ship." Admiral Koris responded, reclining on his bed and groaning. "This could be the extinction precipice for my people…"

"We won't let it be." The Commander answered simply, giving him a confident smile when his visor turned to her. "John and I are pretty practiced at saving species by now. Leave it to us."

"So you are." The alien laughed, and then sighed and looked to the roof. Voice low, he repeated, "So you are… Please, tell Tali what you have discovered, and our suspicions of the Heavy Fleet. And that the Civilian Fleet is… Is going to withdraw from Rannoch completely, Ancestors preserve me, because if we cannot trust our own people and those stationed to protect us… What's the point of it all, then?"

The sentiment was one that echoed uncomfortably in the back of his mind. And it brought the lives of images, flashing by in his heartbeats and with them, of burning worlds full of innocent people. Innocent people abandoned by their 'betters', those with rank and station who elected to leave them behind to save their own skin.

"We still have to deal with the Geth first, Admiral." Shepard's words snapped him out of his reverie, and he turned to her suddenly. At some point he'd started sweating and breathing too swiftly, and he schooled it, though she gave him a look and asked, "Are you alright, John? You drifted off, for a minute there."

"Thinking." Or more accurately, remembering a trio of rather shitt lifetimes, but he shrugged it off either way. "I'm fine, and you're right. We can't just leave the Geth to the Reapers, even if the Quarians withdraw. Giving them a massive infantry, navy and industrial corps… You may as well execute your people yourself."

"A little dramatically put, but…" Shepard sighed and cocked her head to the side, "But he's right. Leaving is basically suicide, for your entire race. The Coalition isn't holding ground, it's given it and runs rescue ops instead of holding actions. Add the Geth fleet and industrial base and… Well, we'll be overwhelmed, even with the Rachni bolstering us."

"Then what do you recommend?" The man asked, quietly affronted to have his orders so easily dashed. Or afraid of who he was dealing with at the mention of the Rachni bolstering them. "If the Heavy Fleet is betraying us, or even if only fanatics are, whatever the case may be whatever battle strategy we could have is too dangerous. And the moment I guard my Fleet and those of my fellows against the Heavy Fleet, they will know."

"Then we end the Geth threat, one way or another." John spoke simply, giving the woman a look and then turning to the Admiral. "Do you know where the Reaper signal is originating from?"

"We have narrowed it down to a few hundred mile expanse of the northern continent." The Admiral nodded, "But on it, there are a dozen Geth facilities of varying size. All are relaying the signal. All could be the point of origin."

"Hm." If they could all be the point of origin, then… There was only really one option about what to do, here. A tried and true method, albeit a costly one and one that wasn't from this world in the slightest. "Admiral, I need for you to call on the Admirals and convene a meeting. Commander, I need you to do the same, and route it to wherever it is held."

"John?"

"Old ODST rule of thumb, Ma'am." He explained simply as he stood and rolled his shoulders. "If you have a hundred options, sent a hundred strike teams. My plan is that we meet with the Conclave, have the number narrowed down, and call on Coalition forces."

"Then we assault the Geth on the ground… Use the _Normandy's_ stealth capabilities to land and mobilise a dozen small assaults." The woman's pulse picked up with the idea, and the information behind it. He could tell from the way her pupils dilated and her jaw ground, a vein popping out and receding from it. "The casualties, though… John, they would be astronomical for the team that finds the right place. The Geth will have reinforcements in droves there."

"I know."

"...I do too." She sighed, "And you'll want to be at the most likely spot Legion points out. Won't you?"

"I will, Ma'am." He nodded gently, clasping his hands behind his back and asking in as crisp a tone as he could manage. "Commander, permission to undergo the operation as I have detailed."

"You really are a bastard…" She sighed, and then scowled, and then finally nodded with eyes hard as steel. "Permission granted. But you don't get to die down there, Rook. You have a workshop to set up after the war."

"I do."

"Good." She turned to the Admiral then, who looked lost for the missing contexts of the various parts of their conversation, and asked, "Are you willing to commit to such a plan? The Coalition will not commit the soldiers and equipment to an operation like this and not get the Quarians as members."

"I can't guarantee the other Fleets, but… You give us the Homeworld after this war is over, you will have the Civilian Fleet. And without our support, the other two should fall in line." And like that, the second deal was struck, for a second species whose fate rested on their operations.

And on his gun sights being accurate.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

The Council Chamber of New Arcturus was far less noble and airy than the Council's, owing both to the war they were fighting and the risk that such an open space would pose and to Krogan design aesthetics. Less flowing shapes and bright, open windows, and more rugged and blocky edges around a room only large enough to accommodate the seats arrayed along its edge. One for the Humans that he took, another for the Krogans that Wrex sat in with a wide grin, and a third for the Turians where the Primarch rested. Ten more open and waiting to be filled.

An eleventh had been removed, and in its place sat a Rachnic Hive-Node, as large as a man but fat and round, sitting on an ME platform that carried it. Beside it stood an Asari woman whose origin both she and the Rachni refused to explain, only stating she would let the Rachni use her to speak.

He found it disgusting, in a deep way he couldn't help, but such was not his choice to make. It was her body and her mind, after all.

The room's wall was smooth, and its furnishings rugges. Heavy metal chairs they sat on, thick leathers from Tuchanka for padding, and small tables beside them. Water and cups were sat on each, refreshments for long meetings of which there had already been a few, and in the center of the smooth walled, round room was a large platform set into heavy metal. A Quantum Entanglement Communicator, made to look impressive as their station demanded, even if the walls were bare and the floor was dirty.

The QEC lit up blue, casting the room in a bright shade of it while the lights dimmed automatically and the shapes of Shepard and the armored form of her second officer flared to life. Both saluted and the woman spoke, "Admiral. Council-members."

"Not technically a Council yet, but I'll take it." Hackett grunted shortly, reaching over to grab his glass of water and asking, "Why are you calling us direct? Normally you'd have passed the politics uphill to let me deal with it."

"I'm not calling, and you won't like why." His eyebrows rose visibly and Shepard waved a hand towards her secondary officer. "John, explain your plan."

"Yes, Ma'am. EDI is broadcasting a map now, let me know when you have it." The delay was momentary, as their VIs unpacked the compacted download and displayed it in bright whites and blues. The edges were foggy and ragged, like an old map might be, from the compacting and broadcasting but it was legible and he nodded. "This region holds, somewhere, the source of the Reaper code that is upgrading and controlling the Geth. We need it disabled in order to liberate the Geth."

"Liberate them?" The Primacrch asked, his voice flanging with his confusion. "I thought the idea was to destroy them."

"I don't believe that is necessary." John answered simply, his face betraying no emotion and his helmet under an arm. "According to Legion, the Geth just want to survive. We offer them that, like the Rachni, and they will work with us."

"They allied to the Reapers!" The Turian argued hotly, waving a talon at the Asari and Rachni duo seated across from him. The duo flinched at the gesture and exchanged glances, but didn't speak as the Turian went on. "The Rachni we forgive because in the Rachni War and now, there is strong evidence that they were Indoctrinated. But the Geth willingly joined the Reapers, and willingly wage war on us."

"And the Krogan willingly launched a galactic campaign in the Rebellion." Wrex grunted loudly, his voice carrying easily through the room. "Then your kind neutered mine, but we're above judging what people do to survive. So we don't talk about that any more, now do we?"

"...Point. Made." The Turian sighed and relaxed against his seat and then gestured at the two holographic Humans. "Fine. As long as you can guarantee their loyalty, and that they won't turn right around and invite the Reapers in, I won't block it. Talk."

"Legion has narrowed the locations that are likely to be the ones that they're using to a dozen, scattered miles and mountains apart." A dozen white dots lit up, scattered so far apart that unless they bounced to space it would take days to get from one to the next. A fact that Hackett didn't miss, and didn't like. "Now, Legion has a set of targets we can hit that will weaken their air-space coordination, make it so the space around here is safer. And safe enough, with Quarian support, that a fleet of ours should be able to stay safe."

"Fleets of ours?" The Human admiral asked, already suspecting the answer.

"The plan is that we strike every single one of these bases simultaneously, and with overwhelming firepower." Shepard explained simply, "The Quarians would go extinct if they tried such a thing, especially with the corruption we suspect of the Heavy Flett. We'll need Coalition support to even attempt it, and in numbers."

"It would strike a blow to the Reaper presence in the entire galaxy. It's doubtless that they are already filtering Geth infantry and ammunition into their lines." Shepard looked to Hackett for confirmation of that, and grimaced when she got it. Their infantry teams had reported Geth units, weapons and more on the battlefield on land and in space. "Then it's imperative we break this supply line."

"And with the Geth and our children, we could defend and hold the area as well. Our songs and their steel would together drown the sour notes of the old machines like a choir." The Rachni's handler said, shuddering and jittering as she did. A disgusting display, but one his mind forced him to tolerate for the sake of, well, _tolerance_ as well as politics. "We stand beside this plan and our saviors. We will dedicate our children to this endeavour."

"You won't have the numbers, bug." Wrex interrupted, turning to the hologram and nodding, "Krogan infantry will join in. Fill in the blanks."

"We'll have to hit the Reapers in an offensive to tie up their fleets. Or they'll just intercept our transport fleet and launch a counter into Rannoch's space to stop us." Hackett added, giving his Turian and Krogan compatriots a look. And a grave one at that. "We'd need to mobilise the fleets, and sail into Alliance and Council space, as much as those terms apply now."

"Punch 'em right in the jaws, hide our real aim behind it and score some points on the galactic stage." Wrex summarised simply, grinning like a mad, feral beast at the prospect. "I like this plan. I like it a lot, actually."

"I'll make contact with the Council, let them know enough about our plans to coordinate." Hackett nodded, along with his grimace of course. Contacting the Council wasn't an ideal, really, but… "The Reapers are everyone's opposition. Even with things as they are, I'm sure the Asari and the Salarians will take help where they can get it."

"That's what they've been doing whenever we turn up to fight the Reapers." Wrex nodded and stood, giving the three - or four, at least technically - in the room a nod. "I'm going to get my forces ready. Hackett, bug let me know when we move. I'll have you ten thousand Krogan boots ready and in the wings to kick whatever asses need kicking."

"Then it's decided." Hackett sighed, offering the Turian a look to see if he was alright. He looked frustrated, but nodded understandingly and stood in a show of solidarity. A sign that the Coalition Council had decided together, instead of the Salarians bullying the Asari into stalling proceedings. "Commander, see to the preparations in-system as you can and as needed. We'll be there in two weeks time to support your assault."

The defender's position was a good one, but no wars would be won by only taking it. And now, they would go on the offensive. He just hoped that after it started, they'd be able to stop. Or win, of course.

Winning would be nice, for once.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

A week later, the _Normandy_ had been generously resupplied, refueled and cooled thoroughly by the Migrant Fleet. Or rather, by the Patrol and Civilian Fleet's volunteers to supplement roles aboard the Coalition ship and on the ground, in the coming operation. And so as they gathered between the Kodiak and old, Quarian retrofitted Mako in the hold, there were as many non-Humans as Humans armed and ready for combat. Even while the assembled soldiers took their seats and spots standing in the back where the men outnumbered the seats they had to hand, nearly a hundred of the souls crammed into Engineering, engineers and technicians worked diligently to finalize preparations for the tank and shuttle.

"You ready for this?" Shepard asked beside him, dressed in her armor and arms hanging across her chest with her hands gripping her collar comfortably. He gave her a look from behind his non-polarized visor and the woman smiled sarcastically, "You know why I'm worried. We're hitting space command transmission nodes across the _planet_ , and doing it in small teams for the regulars and pairs for the specialists. This is the very definition of high risk."

"Not like I drop from spaceships in a little metal can or anything." She smacked his breastplate and he smiled at it, albeit a small one. And one that left quickly as he turned back to the matter at hand. "I'll be fine, Jane. Javik is as good a fighter as either of us, and I trust him."

"I'd feel better if you had a tech on hand…"

"I had Tali teach me everything I need to know about the networker." He answered, patting the little silver dinner plate attached to his thigh meaningfully. The little thing was a pet project of the Special Projects fleet, apparently, and they were lucky it had gotten to a functional state before the stupidity they were in started up. "Latch it onto the central mainframe, and run the program through its VI from my 'Tool. Easy as pie, and Javik has one too, so any function failures are covered by redundancy."

"Still… I guess Momma is just gonna be worried about her boys going off to play without her." She sighed and, without asking, wrapped an arm around him in a warm, one-armed hug. "Be careful out there, Rook. I don't want to lose any of my kids today. We've made it this far without that, by some kinda miracle, so let's pray the gods keep it running."

"Amonkira watch over you." He offered, earning a small smile from the woman as she pulled away.

"You a believer now?"

"Ask me again once the war is over." He shrugged, not honestly knowing the answer himself. She was, he knew, and her mind and soul, so to speak, were inside him now. So whatever inkling of religiosity he had might well have been hers, and not his, if that even mattered. "It doesn't matter right now, and I haven't sat down to think it through."

"After the war, then." She agreed, giving him an odd little smile he didn't understand and then turning serious again. "So, time for a mission brief, I guess. I always hate these… No idea why, but I do."

He only shrugged and she rolled her eyes and turned away, snapping her fingers twice to get Tali and Legion to join her. Seeing them stand in a line, with his black armored form behind them, the room soon fell silent aside from the sparking of engineer's tools. Even the engineers were trying to stay quieter, though, more gingerly picking up and dropping tools and parts both and working slower for their care.

"As you all know, Coalition infantry will begin arriving inside a week or so to assist with a large scale ground operation on Rannoch." Shepard started when she was satisfied by the quiet and attentiveness of the assembled soldiers. "This is part of a wide scale, deep operation of offensives across Council, Coalition and mostly occupied Alliance space. Even the Terminus systems are noticing and mercenary organizations are attacking the Reapers wherever they can."

"Even mercenaries have noticed what we're doing here, and are lashing out in response to it." Tali added, neither she or Shepard electing to broach the more rumor based items going on out there. Or the rumors of dubious Coalition ties to crime lords and pirates. "Centuries ago, the Citadel ignored out pleas for help. But now, on the precipice of retaking our homeworld, half the galaxy is mobilising for us."

"But that doesn't mean this is anywhere near over, or easy." Shepard jumped in, heading off the Quarian whoops and cheers that threatened to overtake the assembled soldiers. "Phase one of Operation Morning Breaker is all on us. We fail, or don't accomplish our objectives, today and through the next few days, and the Coalition will be forced to withdraw. We can't afford a protracted fight here, the Reapers will find some way to break our lines if we even try it. Legion, explain the objective."

"We shall embark in fireteams of varying size, equipped with specialized networking devices tied through the _SSV Normandy's_ fire control systems and QEC. "The machine explained succinctly, wholly ignoring the occasional murmur of anxiety over the machine even being in the room. "Using the processing power both allow, we will jam access to Geth platforms in orbital combat and on the planet's surface. Wherever successful, we can free Geth units from. Freed from the control of the Old Machines and offered a chance at survival with the Coalition, these units will occupy the processing space and units they are in but not attack Creator vessels."

"Which means heavy infantry support to help the Coalition when they get here, and less vessels attacking the Migrant Fleet." Shepard clarified simply, amid worried and even affronted looks from the Quarians. Frowning at the display, the woman snapped, "You all started this war, and the Geth tried to negotiate. You pushed them right into the Reaper's-"

"We take no offense at Creator paranoia and fear." Legion, of all the people to do it, interrupted her. Nodding to the assembled aliens, it spoke in as gentle a voice as it could manage. "Many wrongs have been committed on all sides of this conflict. We request an opportunity to show the Creators that we mean no harm, and will coexist peacefully if allowed. In exchange, we offer a promise to fight against the Reapers, who we only allied to in a desperate want of survival."

"The Fleet has done things it isn't proud of to stay alive too." Tali added, stepping to the machine's side and laying a hand on its shoulder. The machine reacted slightly, its flanges flicking theatrically, and she went on as he realized what had happened here. "We attacked them, forced them back, ignored their hails to negotiate, and they did something they aren't proud of. They're our creations, our children, and now we have a chance to make it right and return home. Anyone here that wants to spit on Rannoch can stay on the ship while we all fight for the Quarian _and_ Geth people."

The publicity stunt they'd staged, and it was obvious now that they had even if he'd not been told, seemed to work. While the aliens weren't quite _happy_ about the idea of working with the Geth, their desperation to finally have a real home again won out over their bigotry and they settled in. Whether it would hold against reactionaries after the fact would remain to be seen, but that wasn't their problem.

"Now that's settled, the operation is a simple one." Shepard spoke, feigning chagrin at being cut off and undermined so publically. "Squads, fireteams, pairs and so on will be assigned to each location. Over the next twelve hours, you will drop in stealthed Kodiaks onto the planet. The largest base will get Mako support as well, dropped off as part of the _Normandy's_ own set of dropping teams."

"Hit the bases, sweep the defenders, do _not_ destroy the processing units, and hook up the networkers you've been assigned." Tali finished for her old friend, "We do that, and we could very well double our fighting force in the system and rob the Reapers all in one go. Then, when the Coalition arrives, we take back our home properly. For the Homeworld!"

This time, no one tried to stop the soldiers clapping and cheering, and soon even the Humans were doing it. Rannoch was, to them at least, a stepping stone to retaking Earth after all.

"First parties, board the Kodiak. Party designations Alpha-One through to Alpha-Twelve." Shepard ordered to that end, the ODST ad members of Alpha Deployment moving towards the shuttle quickly. He climbed in first, but could still hear the woman's voice. "The specialists making up Alpha Lance will deploy first and scout out from better sightlines. Bravo Lance and Alpha Thirteen will deploy second, for heavy assault, while the Kodiak rejoins the _Normandy_. Charlie will be the last deployment."

"Good luck and good hunting, all of you."

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **SD Phantom :**_

 **It is, yeah. Everyone else, I have to be nuanced and inflect properly, but Legion? Just says what is simplest. It's wonderful.**

 _ **Angry Santo :**_

 **I was always taught, growing up, that the mark of a good writer is when you can make a character a way someone DISLIKES, but they still like the character. So I take your compliment as a large one, and thank you.**

 _ **Hamilton 406 :**_

 **Eventually, yes. Shortly, actually.**

 _ **Seantoneill7 :**_

 **I'm happy you're happy.**


	30. The battle of Rannoch, Part I

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

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As soon as he'd approved the plan, and the Coalition Council of course - named so in spite of Wrex's inherent dislike of the mere term for its relation to the _Citadel_ Council - the entirety of the Coalition had been mobilized. For weeks, factories on Tuchanka's surface, mining facilities throughout the system and those adjacent, and orbital dry and wet dock facilities had gone into high drive.

Or, well, higher than they already had been. Closer to half a year than he'd like to admit, they'd been pumping out everything from ammunition blocks to heat sinks and armor. The Krogans had volunteered their wealth of stockpiled weapons, vehicles and equipment, and it had been moved to warehouses while first the Krogans were outfitted, and later Alliance soldiers, and then Turians. Mercenaries limped into the system and were offered resources for their equipment, or service directly, and brought manpower and expertise to offset and bolster drafted civilians trained into the Military.

Hundreds of thousands of small fleet craft, mainly frigates to cruisers with escorts and a few heavier ships of the line from older generations, had soon been clustered across Tuchanka's system.

And all of this had been before the Council's Schism. Much less the arrival of the Rachni and _their_ ludicrously fast growing and industrious labor force, that took over virtually all ground-based reconstruction duties. Vast swathes of land were in weeks cleared and parceled out for farmland, industry, housing and warehouses. The alien creatures even took to bringing in asteroids, which they strip mined of metal and ice, sending the former to processing and the latter to purification.

And, once that had been done, down to Tuchanka's surface, to irrigate the miles of burgeoning farmland and provide water to the now millions of Coalition citizens living on it's surface.

"Hard to believe it's the same planet, really." Wrex murmured beside him, standing about the _Everest_ to lead his Krogan warriors in ground operations in tandem to it. "Not a year ago, it looked like a floating ball of shit. I mean, it was _our_ ball of shit, but still… To change so much so fast is mind boggling."

"Indeed." From what it had been to now, it looked more like an overly arid Earth than Tuchanka proper. "The wonders of a concerted, and frankly _desperate_ , group's abilities when they come together."

There were swathes of brown patches not yet developed, of course, but he could see even from space rivers and a great ocean stretching around a third of the planet. Nothing lived in it yet, he'd been told, aside from Thresher Maws, but there'd been talk of transplanting fish species for fish farms. Another third, mainly hugging the bright, blue ocean's coasts and the rivers stretching like a spider's web across far more than a third of the planet's area, was taken up by shining silvers and verdant greens.

Cities and crops, he knew, from a variety of species. And around the planet, millions of naval personnel aboard thousands of ships of a variety of origins, ages, and crews. A fleet five times larger than any in recorded history, he'd been told by some of the Asari on Tuchanka while he was there.

"All thanks to the Rachni, you mean." The Krogan huffed, stretching back and grunting at the effort. And the relief, judging from his eased exhale. "The scaly bastards never stop, you know. Didn't stop killin' back during the Rachni Wars and now they won't stop cleanin' and clearing."

"Like machines in that way. Watching them is as intimidating as it is awe inspiring." And coupled with their own agrarian engineers, and base farmers of course, the work had gone swiftly. The various corps of engineers, now organizing into a Coalition Engineer Corps, offered the same orders and support in cities and infrastructure planning. "Now we have to protect it."

"Think we can't pull it off?" The Krogan asked, large eye meeting his gaze evenly.

"I don't rightly know, honestly." They were on the command deck, but there was enough space and noise from the crew preparing to embark that he knew he couldn't be heard. The Krogan was his equal, which was rare, and was a far more understanding ear than he'd ever expected. "Part of me is the old soldier, death or glory and all that jazz. You know how it is."

"I do, yeah." The great Krogan head nodded and its owner smiled toothily. "Kind of a Krogan gimmick, death and glory and all that. In our blood. Hell, s'in our hide too, most of us."

"I've been in and seen enough scraps with Krogan to know how true _that_ sentiment is." He didn't deign to detail whether he meant with them on his side or not, and Wrex seemed all the more amused for it.

"Hah! I bet you have, Admiral. I bet you have, and looks like you won at least most of 'em." He barked a laugh that turned head of various species for a moment before they went back to work. Clapping him on the shoulder gently, for a Krogan at least, Wrex added in a loud tone to carry his words around the deck, distracting them from how Tuchanka receded from view as they sailed away through the black. "Don't worry though, Admiral! Everyone knows why you'll win this fight. You brought the Krogan!"

"I'm sure someone will write that down in the history books." Hackett sighed, gave a wry shake of his head, and then bellowed. "Ensign, report on our probes? What do our friends in the Scout Flotillas have for us?"

"Sir, the QEC has received reports from eighty percent of our stealthed probes sent outside the secure cordon on the other side of the Relay jump line." The Turian officer reported, her mandibles clicking as she skimmed the reports for what was certainly not the last time. "Cordon area is holding, mine fields at roughly forty remains across the board, Reaper presence outside the cordon moderate and patrolling."

"To block refugees, no doubt." Hackett growled, knowing how eager they were to neuter a future enemy. Even if it seemed the Reapers were more than happy to devour Citadel space and planets before looking to them. "Any incoming messages from the Council?"

"Only a small one, saying that if we start attacking the Reapers and are willing to accept their refugees, they won't turn us away at the gates." The ensign responded, giving the Admiral a hopeful look. "A private communication from the Asari Councilor, Tevos, has requested assistance and evacuation in Asari space. Thessia is being pushed to breaking, Admiral."

"Transit rights?" He asked, as tired as any other Admiral in the Coalition was of jumping into the Citadel's periphery and skirting the system to jump by into space contested by Reapers.

"Granted on terms of our assistance." The alien answered, voice hopeful and apprehensive, "Sir… What are your orders?"

Most of the crew of their rapidly bloating fleet and civilian sector both were from Council space, after all, most Humans evacuated to systems the Coalition had managed to secure with livable worlds. Salarians, Asari, Turians, and even a Hanar all turned to him for his word and he knew that was the cause. They were worried about what the spurned Humans would do now the Council, or one of the Councilors at the least, had come asking for help.

The chance for petty vindictiveness was not one that every man or woman would be able to walk by, he knew.

"Second and Third Coalition Interdiction Fleets, deploy to Asari space. Support evacuations and retreat of military and civilian persons wherever possible. Standard doctrine, preserve our ships however possible." The First Interdiction Fleet had already been assigned to securing the entirety of the connecting Relay system ahead of construction in it. A task the light, fast moving torpedo craft that made up the vast majority of the fleets were more than adept at. "First Shield Fleet, escort Castle Fleet into the system to begin fortifications."

"Sword Fleets all, move to the relay and report ready when green." He finished, moving to his raised seat and easing into it with a groan, wishing his old age hadn't robbed him the ability to stay standing like he preferred. Wrex gave him a look, clearly put off by the difference between the Turian chair and his Alliance ship surrounding him, and he sighed. "Doctor's orders. My spine is impacting from old age and old wounds."

"Ah, the pains of not having a redundant organ system." The Krogan snorted, lumbering by, "I'm going to get my warriors ready on rotation. Make sure I got men up for whenever you need us."

"Good luck, High Warlord." The warrior barked a booming laugh in answer to show how much he wanted _that_ , or put up the show of it at the least, and Hackett fought not to smile. A battle he lost, sadly, a small grin forcing its way onto his face. "Readiness?"

"All Sword fleets are ready. Admiral Trakian of the Eleventh Sword requests permission to take lead with his destroyers and carriers." The Turian woman paused for a moment, a hand to her ear in signal that she was listening to more from the communication terminal, and then she nodded. "The Fourteenth is volunteering to join, bringing a total of forty heavy carriers and twice as many destroyers to bear."

"Move the Sixth and Ninth into place behind them, with orders to follow five minutes after they jump, so they can clear the lane." Those two had three apiece of the light dreadnoughts that they'd managed to manufacture, which was almost all of their new ones, and so made a good follow-up behind the lighter fleets made more for escort, interception and patrol. "Third and Fourth fleets to follow behind that. Orders are to secure more space for our fleet to move through at any cost. We can't afford to get cut off."

"Aye, Admiral." The Turian called back over her shoulder, "Relaying message now. Wait one… Fleets mobilising."

The display at the front of his Alliance dreadnought let him see the fleets moving into position as he'd ordered. Over a hundred ships in loose, scattered arrays of destroyers, frigates, sensor boats and, towards the back, rescue ships and tugs. Neither ships nor trained manpower could afford be left wasted, and so the little black beetles would tug away damaged ships, lifepods, and after the fact of the fight, scraps of armor and destroyed ships. In Tuchankan space and the resources would be repurposes however possible to maintain resource efficiency.

Battleships to forks, if need be, to save on metal.

"Relaying now, Admiral." He saw it happening even as she reported it, and nodded his understanding as the fleets lit electric blue and vanished into the ether. "Reaper contacts on the other side of the Relay, Admiral! Destroyers and Frigates, mainly, attempting to limit access to the Citadel from space beyond. Debris around the Relay catastrophic."

"As expected." He nodded, knowing that the Reapers had been skirmishing there and preying on shuttles and freighters both to try and break the Council's seat while the bulk of their fleet disassembled their planets proper. "Engage. Swords Three, Two and Ten to follow once the fleets have vacated space around the Relay."

And so the first shots were fired. From there, he would send Sword groups across Citadel and Alliance space and begin earnest warfare directly against the Reapers. With the Geth in the other corner of the galaxy, they could alternate smashing apart Reaper positions and evacuating sectors. The Council offered a third avenue, so long as they could coordinate.

"Primarch Victus." He called, using a personal communications line to contact the Turian in Sword Fourteen. "Once Widow is fully secured and Castle and Shield fleets are through to begin fortification, I am clearing you per my personal authority. Take five Fleets and begin Operation : Harbinger."

"Finally…" The Human Admiral could practically _feel_ the snarl in his voice, and its predatory edge. He could hear it and feel it, and that sent a pleasant chill down his spine. "Palaven will be ours again. Resistance there has been fierce, thanks to the Uncured Infantry volunteers Wrex sent me to smuggle in. We can count on millions of soldiers to swell our ranks if we save them."

"It will be costly…"

"So will retaking Earth, and from reports, they have more Reapers in Alliance space than Hierarchy space. We move fast, fight smart, we can start securing more planets and resources." And from those they could continue pushing and fighting, assuming they could preserve their officer corps.

With the threat of Indoctrination to hand, they couldn't reliably field many positions from occupied worlds.

"You have your fleets, Primarch." He stated neutrally instead of arguing or agreeing, knowing better than to get overly involved. "Wrex and I will be pushing through Asari space while you hit Turian systems and retake them. The Reserve fleets will be on standby, ready for either of us. Don't hesitate to call them up."

"Acknowledged." Was the terse, clipped reply, "Good hunting, Admiral."

"The same to you." He answered, turning back to his crew and raising his voice, a simple button press linking him to the communication lines for the entirety of the Coalition forces. "This is Admiral Stephen Hackett, formerly of the Alliance military. I know you have, every last one of you, seen the devastation of this war. Millions of you have lost billions more loved ones, friends and comrades in arms. You've lost homes, worlds, _systems_ to a threat that knows no mercy and no pity."

"Today, we stand up and take it back. One bloody, scrap logged step at a time." There were no cheers across his hip or, he was sure, most of the others. The Krogan might have, but he couldn't hear or see them, and so he was met with a moment's silence that he took to steady himself. "First Coalition Fleet, relay now."

He was glad he'd gotten enough sleep before, because starting now, he knew he'd not get much if any for the next few months. There was much to retake, and if their momentum halted, they would be turned back. So they'd press the advance.

"This is the Citadel Security Fleet, reading Coalition signals. Orders are to support you in-system, and push the Reapers out." A voice crackled over his comms, feminine and almost definitely Human or Asari. In the distance, he could see a few dozen ships and even the Destiny Ascension herself lumbering towards the Reapers to meet up with them, his own forward fleets already halfway there and fanning out into formations. "At speed to attack together, unless the Reapers come first."

"My ahead fleets should meet at the same time as you." He assured the nervous sounding woman, "Good luck."

"The same to you, Admiral." The voice responded coolly, as lances of red and tracer fire began to light up the blackness in the distance. Four of his frigates popped instantly, like balloons filled with fire rather than warships, and the woman added. "And for what it's worth, damn the politics behind it all, but thank you for coming."

"Think nothing of it. We have a war to win, and it's time the Council fall in line and cooperate." The line was more politically charged than he would have preferred, but they needed the sentiment sowed among the militaries of the Asari and the Salarians both. Hopefully, that would either result in upward pressure or defection. "It's time to get to work."

Step by _bloody_ step, they would take it all back.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

The Kodiak only slowed enough for the duo to leap out, Javik in lead and using his Biotic tendrils to snap out and pull them to the ground rather than let them fall and crunch against the barren, desert stone of the plateau-top. The two hid behind low, sparse, desert brush and watched the Kodiak list away with its bellyful of Marines destined for other landing zones spanning in a radius miles wide. Part of a continent spanning set of maneuvers based largely on his plans and authority, which was already setting his stomach spinning like a tumble dryer.

A good way to lose his lunch, that line of thinking seemed to be.

The plateau was steep on all sides but one, which faced the opposite of the way they needed to be going and was made up of loose rocks that just screamed of a landslide if they tried to scrabble and climb their way down. That route also landed them in a small divot in the land, with a fast flowing river sliding along it from under the plateau that stretched to the West where the softer stone had been worn away over unknowable eons.

The rest was sparse, arid shrubland with trees smattered along the wide river below them intermittently. He could pick out herds of animals and smaller, darting packs of predators moving about in the distance. And, directly below, a foursome of horned, catlike animals lounged on the ground beside a bend in the river, drinking and bathing idly. Like an odd mix of lions and gazelles, nearly, though taller and stockier than either.

It felt like an odd mix of Arizona topography and African savanna, nearly. Or what he'd seen in pictures, videos and books about them at least.

Far and away, up the river and towards where it widened even more and sped up, they could see the Geth construction. Like a large fort, with high metal walls and a single blocky structure that his VISR registered as a mil in diameter. Beside it, a curving bridge stretched over the river, with long spindles dipping into the water. Tali had told him about them, essentially giant needles that dipped into fast moving rivers to suck in water for cooling processing units and which spun through the force of small fans on the sides of the needle to generate power.

Dozens and dozens of points along the river were developed with similar bridge-like power structures, power lines stretching between them alongside pipes running along the ground to transport the water. Massive wind turbines were dotted around the savannah as well, intermittently switching off for long intervals. Why was easily discovered via his VISR, which showed small clusters of birds passing by that, either to protect the birds or the turbines, sensors would be switch the turbines off.

"We need to avoid those turbine towers." He quickly surmised, pointing them out for Javik. The alien hummed a question and he explained, "They turn off when birds are near. Which means they have sensors, and might register us."

"The river is likely to be patrolled by maintenance units, keeping up the power generation for the processing hub." Javik pointed out, earning a curt nod from the ODST. "And large forms would possibly be assumed to be herding animals, or predators in our numbers."

"Hide among the herds then?" There were certainly enough wandering animals of various kinds for that to be possible. Beasts large and small, most sporting horns of some kind and around half with scales, but all grazing the sparse grasses, trees and shrubbery interspersed around the windmills and along the river.

"They would not recognize us, and though there are no hunters on this world, they would assume us predators." Javik argued simply, pointing with his particle rifle along the more hazardous terrain alternating sides of the river. "This path would involve crossing the river a number of times. But it is our best option to stay concealed and move swiftly."

"I agree." So long as the creatures didn't hound them, it would be the safest. "Then let's get down from here and start walking."

Getting down was easily done, Javik able to drop a dozen feet at a time and land with a Biotic flare. Then John would do the same at a signal, while Javik's Biotic power lashed out to catch him around his arms and waist. This happened three times before his boots splashed into the shallow water along the river's banks and they turned to begin their march towards their target. Beside them, the river alternated between rushing, frothy segments and easier, wider banks of dark night blue that flowed more quietly. The latter had them watching predators sleeping on far sides of the river or skirting around curious, apprehensive herd animals resting in other places.

"It is oddly silent." Javiko noted quietly after twenty minutes or so of low, stooped walking. "The lack of insect noise is quite odd. And the animals are tame. Nearly domesticated."

"Not quite. But I see your point." He'd seen domesticated animals on a variety of deployments, and they didn't snort or growl at them. But even the predators, or what looked liked them at least judging from the fangs and claws, only hissed and chortled if they got too close. "They probably think we're Geth, and won't bother us since Geth wouldn't bother them."

"Makes sense, in a way." The Geth would have zero need for meat after all, and thus the species would have developed a habit of apathy towards moving things that weren't animal. And with their armor, weapons, and upright walking, they probably _looked_ to an animal like Geth.

"Indeed." Javik murmured quietly as he slowed and the ODST knelt in the cold water, just around the embankment and just ahead of the alien.

"I'm going to check ahead of us, hold." The Prothean only nodded his response and turned to watch the way they'd come, up the river in case any Geth _happened_ by. On a patrol, or running maintenance, he didn't know or care.

Ahead of them, along the river, the facility sat quiet. Aside from the obvious muted rumble of turbines, masses electronics, and such industrial emplacement. It didn't even appear well defended or enforced, for that matter. There were no high rising gun emplacement, standing guards, or anything of the sort he would have expected.

"It looks clear." He called back quietly as he rose, turning to look over his shoulder. The Prothean merely nodded and, tucking his pilfered Harrier tighter against his shoulder, the ODST took a breath and sighed. "Let's move. The other units are likely engaging now, or shortly, and once the alarm is raised…"

"Then the Geth would realize _something_ was going on, and raise their readiness." Javik nodded coolly, Particle Rifle held comfortably across his chest. It was a sight he took odd comfort from, and didn't know why, beyond the familiarity of their linked minds. "Let us be off, then. We've a machine species to save, after all. And a planet to retake, inch by bloody inch."

Behind them, they heard sudden mechanical thrumming and several Geth ships took to the skies, zooming off silently. The duo hurled themselves into the mud and shrubbery along the embankment to hide and wait it out, hoping the Geth wouldn't be running a sensor scan and curling into balls to imitate the forms of sleeping animals. It seemed to work and, slowly, the duo stood as the fighters shot away towards the East.

"It would appear that the battles _have_ truly commenced, then…" Javik murmured, "We've not time to lose."

Inch by _bloody_ inch it would be.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Short chapter update, because I got drafted into starting work on a RWBY DnD conversion system. So yeah. I may or may not have that done at some point, and if I do, I will attempt to post the information and methods for you all. Also, I didn't want to cram all the Citadel stuff I plan**_ **and** _**all of the Rannoch stuff into one long ass chapter.**_

 _ **So enjoy~!**_

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **R3d Raven :**_

 **I am glad you enjoy the story, friend-o~! I actually considered spending an inordinate amount of time on him acclimatizing to his memories, but favored a more duty driven approach to things instead. It fit more into the character, I felt, that John was.**

 _ **SD Phantom :**_

 **I… Hadn't rightly considered it, actually. I don't rightly know.**

 _ **Kaiya Azure :**_

 **Many ships in Mass Effect have windows. The Geth and Reapers only lack them for the structural weakness they offer, favoring sensors instead. The Normandy, for instance, does feature**


	31. The Battle of Rannoch, Part II

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

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"If we use my Biotics, then the Geth might sense it somehow. That would… Not contribute very well to the success of our mission." Javik explained when they finally neared the Geth facility, kneeling in a cluster of bushes under a tree about forty feet from the containment wall they'd erected around it. "Scaling it with our armor's magnetics, though, will likely do the same."

"We don't really know they can detect them." John pointed out dryly, his eyes roving over the top of the wall. "Why would they need to set up anti-magnetic sensors on their homeworld?"

"A fair point. And I see no sign of wanting to ward off more than basic animals." Javik had noticed the lack of wire, barbed or even some kind of laser or sensor, as well then it seemed. "I, in fact, see and detect nothing at all on the wall. Whatever they have for security must be masked somehow, if they indeed have it."

There really wasn't any barbed wire or anything like that, at least not that he could see. Something like that was what would need to be there to protect against intruders, and Javik had already run a scan to check into it. It made a certain sense that something like that would be missing in a world dominated by a single union of minds. A world of agreement and consensus. One where all needs were met systematically and by design of the systems around them, Legion had said once when he asked. So why would they design anti-theft systems in old emplacements like this?

"Speed or silence?" He asked, already at least partially knowing what the alien's answer would be.

"Speed, I should think." Javik answered as predictably as the ODST could have ever expected. Regardless, he explained his recommendation quietly, predatory eyes roving over the smooth stone and metal of the wall idly. "I would sooner be done here and moved on. Both for our own safety and to prevent casualties in orbit and in the skies of this world."

"Biotics to get over the wall, then. Me first, you follow, throw a Barrier on me if the area is open while we head for cover." He finally said after a minute to think, and to consider the risks to hand with each. "If they have sensors, they'll tag us either way, and your Biotics are a faster way in. We'll drop down from the top to conserve your stamina."

"I obey." Was all the alien said, offering a small nod and rolling his shoulders as green Biotic power flecked along his arms. When he was prepared, glowing a very dim green to match the bush they were in, he nodded and rumbled, "When you are ready, Doe. Simply run forward and leap once you are near the base of the wall."

Taking a breath he stretched his shoulders back to limber himself up, since he had the moment, and then turned his head to either side until he felt the _crack_ and the looseness that followed there. Then he turned his rifle in his hand, checking it quickly while his other hand went to his waist, tapping along the line of thermal clips there. Satisfied, he continued his last checks, testing the grip on his knife, his 'Tool, his Omni-Gel supplies, and everything else he could think of. He even rechecked his armor plates.

If you had the chance, it was always good practice to take stock of yourself, from top to bottom whenever possible.

"I'm ready. On your signal..." At Javik's nod he stood and broke from cover, sprinting and stooped low until he was a yard from the wall, where he leapt.

Foot outstretched to land, he felt a sharp tug around his shoulders and grit his teeth as he was flung skyward, his boot landing on the top lip of the wall. Below, the wall was set against a ring of low buildings with gently sloped, mostly smooth roofs with small walkways along the innermost areas of the buildings. Raised barriers and high towers with cables running between them and into the buildings circled there, around a larger building with a communications disk at the apex of it. He pushed off the top of the wall and landed in the middle of one, sliding along the gentle slope and coming to a stop when his boot met the ledge and he rolled to hide behind one of those barriers.

"I presume that is the building we seek." Javik rumbled when he'd joined him, kneeling behind the low barrier and peeking around its edge.

"Mhm. At least that seems to be the most reasonable conclusion, given where it is." He nodded, his VISR pinging the surroundings for signals and heat signatures. Then his eyes narrowed and, quietly, he noted, "I don't see any Geth infantry, though. Why aren't they here?"

"Perhaps they left on those craft earlier?" Javik suggested quietly, his own sharp eyes roving over the area in spite of John's VISR pinging. Or perhaps it was owed to it, since Javik would know the weakness of relying on VISR technology as well as he himself would. "Legion did say all Geth trooper units are merely regular, unspecialized working units. In a grand battle such as we have planned and wage now, they would need to levy their numbers."

"Hmm…"

"Regardless, we see our goal." Javik noted, pulling him from the paranoia that the Prothean knew he would be falling into. "We need only find the mainframes and plant the signal jammer."

"Barrier on me. I sweep, you follow." He ordered, ignoring where the machines had left to and instead dropping into the lower area, sinking to a knee with the shock of the fall and spinning in a slow circle as he advanced into the open. Raising a hand, he held up a clear symbol and, quietly, grunted, "Clear. We need to-"

A shimmer caught his eye beside him and he rounded on it, teeth clenching as his Harrier swung around to center. The cloaked Prime, for that is what it was, sparked as rounds scraped and flicked off its shields to no avail. But it's fist slammed into his chest and hurled him away long before its shields fell, sending him rolling away as he gasped for breath and Javik's Prothean Biotic barrier crackled off. Likewise, to conserve power no doubt or for whatever other reason, the Geth let its own barrier fall, though its was a barrier that blocked and redirected light. Not weapon's fire.

Unlike the massive red Primes he'd seen before, this one was somewhat smaller and thinner, painted a dark blue and highlighted by shades of green. Its armor was thinner and lighter as well, and additional head-mounted sensor lights gave it an almost regal aesthetic. The hand that had crushed him aside came back and, from its hip, drew a four barreled revolver looking thing he had never seen before. It's other ended in a long blade over top of its curled fist, the razor tip nearly brushing against the ground. Without a word, the new Geth lumbered forward, its bladed arm pulling back and away while its ballistic armed hand snapped up.

A lance of green Biotics lashed out and caught its right arm around the wrist, yanking it to the side and sending the cluster of rounds scattering into a wall instead of the ODST's torso. With a grunt of effort, Javik held the machine fast, both arms coiled around the green lances of energy binding the creature.

His Harrier snapped up, rounds filling the air between himself and the machine, but it simply spun on its heel to put its armor-covered back to Javik and raised its blade-arm like a shield. Rounds sparked off the heavier armor there and along the blade for a moment before John turned his fire down, aiming at its legs and letting out a short burst. The rounds sparked off shields and hurled dirt into the air where they met the ground around his large feet.

Then he heard a hiss, and a long burst of plasma encased rounds slammed into his side, sparking off his shields and staggering him to the side against the metal of the wall. Turning, he saw a trio of Trooper units emerge from one of the low buildings and scowled. His VISR system should have detected their energy signatures, or the heat from their internal engines, if they were active.

"The Prime…" A blink and he knew what had happened, turning and pouring a burst of rounds into one of the lightly armored and shielded Geth units. It fell and he raised his voice, shouting at the alien as it struggled to fend off Geth with its particle lances while simultaneously holding the Prime at bay. "Javik, the Prime is hosting the network processes the Troopers are using!"

"Then disable them!" The Prothean ordered, "I shall hold them at bay!"

Releasing the Prime and instead leashing a Geth trooper, then spinning it around and into the Prime's side, sending it tumbling to the ground and destroying the little blue unit it. Biotic power rippling through the air, he hurled his jammer at the ODST and turned, lances of Biotic power impaling a quartet of the blue machines. The Prime rose and tried to come for the Trooper, but the alien turned, buffeting it away from him and the central building with the weight of hurled friend.

"A lesson from my favorite show, foul machine!" The alien shouted defiantly, turning and giving him a nod. "Go and go quickly. I shall use the power of friendship to crush these machines."

Somehow, _this_ wasn't what John thought that the show meant… But seeing the alien crush one Geth under the weight of another and then hurl _both_ into the Prime to force its aim off, he couldn't argue. And seeing its light flash and _more_ Troopers emerging, he couldn't wait and overthink the decision he'd been offered. With a last burst of automatic fire to support his ally he turned, rechambered a fresh Thermal Clip, and slammed his shoulder into the thin metal of the door.

He trusted Javik to handle a handful of measly Geth, with or without the odd new Prime platform in the mix.

Inside proved to be no safer than outside, though, a Geth Hunter dropping from the ceiling in front of him as soon as he entered the honeycombing walls of data-banks. Its shotgun snapped up instantly, machine reactions far surpassing what any Human would ever be capable of and without any hesitation. The cluster of plasma rounds slammed into him and _he_ slammed into the wall beside the door, with the machine behind it directly. Its face pressed against its mask and its shotgun to his stomach and he panicked, for the first time in his life. Desperately, his Harrier blaring to life and shearing through steel walls and the sides of the consoles.

Then, the _Geth_ panicked, abandoning all pretenses and its gun down and to the side. He saw his moment and released the weapon, letting it clatter along and off-balancing the machine. In the span of a moment his right hand snapped his Carnifex from his hip and his left sought the grip of his knife. When the Geth turned, shotgun hissing as it warmed, he pushed off the wall with a leg and leapt at it, bringing the knife down on its flashing light and shoving his Carnifex into its stomach.

Four shots later it fell and he raised the weapon, sending four more into a Trooper that dropped down ahead of him. A third joined it and he turned his attention to _that_ , firing two rounds that perforated its torso and then hurling his knife when his gun whined for a rest. It buried in its arm right at the joint of its elbow and that saved him, the machine unable to raise its weapon to properly aim. Instead, it could only spray him and the wall behind him in plasma encased rounds that hissed and popped as they struck his armor and the wall.

And the flesh of his arms and legs, of course, but he tried to ignore that as he slammed a fresh 'Clip home. Another couple rounds and that Trooper fell, the ODST stopping to recover his Krogan knife and pilfered rifle, as well as to inject some Medi-Gel to tend to his wounds before moving on.

It took a minute to get into the main routers in the center of the complex, navigating the others as he went to find the main ones hooked straight into the communications relay. Or what looked most likely to be them, the blocky structures bigger, larger and running straight up in the middle of the building where the relay was. They were large enough, in fact, to be support columns unto themselves, but they hummed and whirred enough to tell him they were the consoles he needed. Anywhere else, he'd been told, and the Geth could reroute the Reaper signals.

He set the little jammers on two separate columns with a control console between them. No sooner had he set them into place than did he hear Tali's voice in his ear, "John? Do you read? You're the first to plant your blockers."

"Crystal clear, Ma'am, and-"

"I would recommend expedience! More Geth have arrived and I- Agh!" The alien never cried out, and he turned, Harrier ready to head out and rejoin his friend. But the Prothean spoke, knowing what he would do already, and through a pinched voice grunted, "I-I am fine enough."

"Agreed." Something about the alien warrior's voice didn't right, but he ignored it and turned his attention back to the alien woman. Through the building, he heard more Geth dropping as those outside were doubtless destroyed, and rushed to finish his work before they came to crash the party, "Your connection is clear, Admiral. The jammers are in place, and going live… Now."

"I'm reading a connection." Tali said while he turned, pouring Harrier rounds into the first Trooper as it rounded a corner. "I'm seeing a… Glitch. Patching."

"Hurry please." He remarked, stepping back he knelt in a small recess the column and console offered, using it as cover while he cut the incoming Geth down. Another Trooper rounded the corner and fired something that had a long rod punch into the console beside him, and he gunned it down. "It's not exactly comfortable down here, Admiral."

"Patched! Your Geth should shut down, now." Tali called as yet another Geth pushed around the corner, coming to a jittering stop where it stood. Tali, aware somehow, sounded elated at it doing so and sighed. "Oh, by the ancestors, I am so glad to hear that worked… I was worried when I saw the glitch, but I'll patch it and-"

"The Prime is- Hrk!" The building shook violently enough that dust and metal panels fell, and he turned towards the way back into the honeycomb and out to his alien friend. "The Prime was active, though I-I know not how. Is this the end of things?"

"Yes, the patch is being sent out on broadband, and we're seeing Geth ships shut down in orbit. Infantry, armor, air , those are being reported too. All across the continent." The sheer relief in her voice was palpable, as was the fear that she'd held before. "You finished ahead of time. The other operatives in your area have your shuttle for support, and will be there whenever they get time for pickup. I would recommend leaving before that, though, a troop carrier was just reported heading that direction."

"Acknowledged." He grunted, heading towards the exit and letting himself breathe. "Javik, be ready, we're heading into the hills to-"

"That, my friend, will be a problem." Those words set a chill into his shocktrooper heart and he picked up the pace, sprinting fast enough he slid around corners and only stopped for slamming into walls and terminals. "I fear I… Made a small mistake."

"What kind of mistake?" Tali asked, voice sharp and tense in the same way John felt.

"The final kind, I fear." The alien laughed and that scared him even more. The short, harsh bark of humor set in his stomach a nausea that a drop from low orbit couldn't even match. "The Prime managed to surprise me, for I presumed victory when it was not yet under lock."

Outside, he found the alien, leaned against the wall beside the door in with his Particle Rifle slung across his chest. Beside him, the sparking, sputtering corpse of the Prime lay, ripped nearly in half and hurled to the side by his Biotics. The Prime's blade, though, had been melted in half at the wrist, and was buried in the Prothen's chest deep enough he was sure it had struck steel through it.

"Rook." The alien grunted in greeting, smiling through bloodied teeth.

"...We need a medevac." He was quick to report, kneeling in the bloodied soil beside his friend and stowing his rifle. Gently, he laid his hand on the blade and tried to tug it free. It didn't budge and he grimaced. "He'd been impaled through the chest, straight into a metal wall. Order them to bring extra Medi-Gel and cutting tools. Have Chakwas-"

"Do nothing, for my spine has been severed." The alien interrupted, sighing and shuddering with the effort. "I have not been able to feel anything below my sternum since it happened. Nor can I move."

"I… We need a stasis unit as well, then." He knelt low to look at the wound and the Prothean sighed. "Status of that transport?"

"Nearing your location." Tali reported quietly, "And set to arrive five minutes after the shuttle could get there. John, I… They won't have time."

"I will _make_ the time." He snapped hotly into the line, drawing his Carnifex and weighing it in his hand. Then he pointed it at a wall and fired until the clip whined and he ejected it, repeating the action. "I'm going to set thermal explosives and draw enemy fire by attacking the power stations. Hopefully, they will come my direction, and the shuttle can slip in safely."

"And what happens to you?" The Prothean answered, earning only silence as he flicked his 'Tool open to coat the Thermal Clip in 'Gel. A jury-rigged explosive, and one that would more pop and flash than anything, but it would do enough. The Prothean scowled and he stilled while he growled, low and fiery, "I will not allow an able warrior to die in the place of my broken self. What reason could there be for that?"

"...I will not leave a man behind."

"You would dishonor me in extending my life. Especially at the cost of _yours_." The Prothean went on while he worked and, unbeknownst to the alien, his teeth began to grate. "A Prothean warrior who can no longer fight would take their own life before that dishonor. Death before uselessness."

"There are plenty of uses for the Last Prothean Voice to speak on."

"The Last Prothean has already spoken plenty. Words said in languages I did not know, to races I thought I would never see. I have spoken so much..." Javik sighed, smiling up at his Human comrade and asking, voice low, "Please, John. I would be silent at last. And I would go to the silence without another soul sacrificed to forestall my own inevitable demise."

"Gah!" He shouted, hurling the grenade at a far wall while blood roared in his ears. Distantly, he could hear the sound of an engine, whining loud and shrill. Geth, and nearby, likely less than ten minutes out. "Damn it all… You're right, Javik."

"Of course I am." The alien smiled, face a paler shade of green than usual. Whether for fear or, most likely, blood loss the ODST couldn't be sure. "I am always right. After a fashion, and almost always in a way that I dislike."

"That's true…" The ODST sighed, forcing himself to accept the decision for what it was. Beyond his power, and a painful truth, like so many other things.

Finally turning, he knelt and yanked his glove free, resting his hand on the alien's cheek. It was a gesture that the Prothean recognized from its own time, the contact link forged instantly, like a bridge between their minds. Across their link flowed pain, coldness, anger and regret. A link between warriors so that two Protheans might say a final farewell where words would inevitably always fail, and time would rush by before the message could be made.

"Good bye, arag utainera." John murmured as he rose, taking the Particle rifle as he went and nodding. "Let them taste your final fury."

"Good bye, my brother." The alien parroted, green energy roiling around him like a fire as the man turned to leave. As he went, he heard the alien call after him, "And fret not! For I shall make sure hell is crowded for when you join me!"

Ten minutes later, sprinting low along the river, he heard the distant _whump_ of a Biotic explosion. He turned to see it, several lances and tendrils of Biotic fury spindling high from a Biotic overcharge the likes of which only Protheans could manage. Just behind it, a wave of rippling green energy washed towards the sky, green lightning crackling Javik's final fury. Shrapnel, metal and more shot skyward like a dying swipe, ripping and tearing at that which was overhead and in front of the ancient alien.

The ship listed to the side, and its engines let out a keening shriek as it forced itself away to protect the hub. A hub which, he could see, had lost large sections of its outer walls and buildings, but otherwise stood clean from the shaped Biotic charge. Which was followed by tremors from a ship crashing to earth, and the distinct sound of its engine overloading in a second, far greater explosion.

As fire bellowed into the sky, he reached a small bank of the river and let himself collapse, eyes burning from tears he refused to let go of.

"Sending my coordinates. Pick up for… Pick up for one. The Last Voice is quiet. Repeat, the… The Last Voice is quiet." He murmured into the secure line, before he cut it off and closed his eyes, Prothean rifle held tight in his hands. Quietly, and knowing no one else would ever hear the words, he keened a low, "Gods fucking damn it…"

An hour later, a battle-worn, bulky-looking and clearly Quarian Kodiak landed in the grass behind him and he boarded. The Human marines aboard, what few there of the original twenty assigned to the shuttle, said nothing. One offered him a small nod of understanding and a ration bar that he took, but the trip was made in silence.

Another name to add to the list of reasons the Reapers would burn in holy fire if he had to light the torches himself, one by one.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

It took five hours before the first stages of the battle for Rannoch were completed and he was able to be safely returned to the _Normandy_. The Quarians had been kind enough to treat his minor wounds while he waited, so when he stepped back into his home his legs and stomach sported little sticky medical patches that latched onto his wounds to keep them cleaned and sterilised while he healed. The _Normandy_ had been empty when he arrived, ahead of most others, but he simply shrugged and assumed they were deployed still and would soon return.

That proved to be very, very incorrect, he found out when Shepard came to see him.

"Vega was with a team of Quarian marines when artillery hit. He's in surgery now with Garrus." The woman, arm in a sling and head wrapped in a tight bandage, said as she straightened her uniform. She saw his worried, exhausted gaze and rushed to reassure him, "Garrus is fine! A Geth unit knocked him on his ass and some of his cybernetics were jarred. They just need to be refitted."

"I see." He sighed, sitting on his bunk and looking at the Particle Rifle hanging on the wall, right beside his old submachine gun. "What were the casualty rates? We anticipated they would probably be bad, but..."

"Ninety percent success rate, matched by an eighty percent Alliance- No, I mean Coalition. An eighty percent Coalition casualty rate." He winced, but wasn't surprised. Nor was she, really, with the knowledge in her mind of what wars like this came with. Both from her own experiences and his, mixed around in her memories uncomfortably. "The Quarians lost seventy-five percent of what forces they _did_ deploy, but… That's only a few dozen."

"We lost hundreds." He nodded, resigning himself to an even emptier, quieter ship than he'd been used to thus far. "But was it… Did their losses matter? I'm assuming that our mission succeeded. Or we'd be leaving and this would all have been..."

"Of course it mattered, John, I-" He gave her a hard look and her face softened before hardening again, firming with fury as she stood from her crate and moved to sit beside him. Quietly, she asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"John." She chided gently, "You can't lie to me. Neither could Javik, and the reason why is obvious."

"...It hurts, Jane." He finally murmured, feeling the woman wrap an arm around him and give him a hug to console him. He leaned into the familial comfort she offered and went on, unable to stop now. Out of control for the first real time in his life, with his shoulders sloped and his back bowed. "I've lost men and women, entire teams, but this is different. I knew him in a way people will never understand."

"He was our brother, just like you're mine and I'm yours." She nodded, understanding what he meant and asking gently, hand squeezing his shoulder comfortingly to say she wouldn't if he wanted her to "Do you want to be alone? We're withdrawing to the Relay now, awaiting the reinforcements we were promised to finish this. And scanning for the Reaper source in-system. You have time, while everyone rests."

It would be easy to compartmentalise by himself, and push by it. He'd done it a hundred times in the past, after all. He was so angry and upset he wanted to put a hole in something, but that was normal, even if his churning stomach wasn't.

"No." He finally shook his head and stood, sighing loudly and tiredly. "I think… I think I want to eat dinner. Everyone must be hungry by now, right? Eating together would improve morale."

He turned and Shepard was smiling as she stood and nodded, "Then let's get some dinner cooked, Rook. Everyone needs some cheering up, like you said, after all."

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Well, I wonder how controversial**_ **this** _**decision will be. Part two of the Battle for Rannoch and mission success! At exceedingly high casualties, and casualties we see on our own characters and crew for the first time. A casualty rate that will seem unsustainable and is brutal, but one I have been hinting at occurring constantly in Hackett's scenes, which is why I had them.**_

 _ **Why would Shepard's team be any different? I doubt they would be, and so they suffer comparable casualties.**_

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Angry Santo :**_

 **It was short, but only because I wanted Javik's passing to be the main and only event in the chapter.**

 _ **Possibly Gigan :**_

 **Sure, ahead. You can even post it as your own story if you like. I wouldn't mind in the slightest.**

 **** _ **SD Phantom :**_

 **Glad you are enjoying it!**


	32. The Battle of Rannoch, Part III

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

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Outside, Rikit saw smoke and knew they were going to be landing soon, right on the edge of the great fires washing over Palaven. Quietly, _shyly_ as his clan-mates in the little Alliance shuttle would always tease him, he turned away from the window and picked up his old, worn out helmet. It, like his armor, his weapons, and those of his clan-mates, had been painted black in search of _something_ resembling a uniform. Their haphazard, salvaged armor and weapons didn't help for that, so uniform paint schemes it was.

At least their clan symbols were allowed on their great shoulders, his clan's an arrowhead in bright, nearly neon green.

"Warriors of Clan Mistle!" He turned along with his brothers to look at the head of the old shuttle, where their Battlemaster stood. Wearing heavier, _better_ armor than them and leaning on his great warhammer like a cane, the old beast sighed. "Couple hundred years ago and some change, we tried to land on this damn planet. Smack around some Turian assholes back during the Rebellions. Late to the party but here we are, I guess."

"But today we ain't here to smash Turian faces, we're here to save the split-jawed pansies!" One of the younger warriors barked, his friends jeering beside him while their Battlemaster watched impatiently. Sensing the old Krogan's gaze the warrior straightened and coughed awkwardly, sheepish from just a look. "Sorry, Battlemaster. I… Didn't mean to speak out of line."

"Hmph. Well, you aren't wrong." The Krogan shrugged, giving the head of his hammer a long look and then sighing. "Anyway, as I was sayin', we are the warriors of Clan Mistle. Our clan didn't exist during the Rachni Wars so now can make a real-"

"Brace, brace, brace- Fuck!"

The pilot's warning was cut off as the shuttle veered to the side and down, slamming Krogan warriors into the hull and each other. Krogans growled at each other, a gun left off safety went off and spewed buckshot into one of the company somewhere, and metal screeched around them. Forcing himself up atop several other Krogan while the shuttle spun he caught sight of a massive, spined _thing_ punched into the other hull. Spikes all along its length extended suddenly and, before he could cry a warning, dozens shot out in all directions.

Again, Krogan screamed, in fury and pain as the spines buried in armored hides, pinned warriors alive and dead to the hull and each other, and punched into the bulkhead separating the pilot's compartment. He was among them, wrenching a spined and barbed piece of metal from his own shoulder and bellowing a last command as the ground no doubt approached.

"Brace, we're about to hit the damn-" His own words were cut off, now, like the pilot's had been.

This time was when their shuttle crashed into something, then through it and into what had to be the ground. He and his fellows were flung again, those who weren't pinned at least, and he saw one skewered by the first spike, writhing on it before going limp and still. Then he slammed home against the bulkhead and was stunned, or knocked out, for a while. He could dimly make out a command to attack, then the roars of his surviving, furious brethren, but then he couldn't remember _anything_.

When he came to, growling and pushing off the ground, he was swamped in a familiar rankness. Dead bodies, expended thermals, and the smell of fire and ash permeated the air as he rose, pushing off and letting a dead battle brother slide off his back. The shuttle had landed on its side, the front bulkhead crumpled where it had landed. Just looking at the warped metal sealed the pilot's fate and he turned, hearing gunfire through the open door on the side they'd been pinned against only a moment before. Climbing out proved harder than he'd expected, his shoulder aching but healing, but friendly arms pulled him out before he could do it himself.

"You're alive, pup?" The Battlemaster said, helmet missing along with one of his bright blue eyes. He caught the gaze or guessed he'd be curious and waved him off, turning and stooping to grab his great mace and testing the weight in his hand. "Husk caught me off guard when I climbed out. We're just startin' to spread out. Good you came to when ya did, or we'd have left you."

"How many did we-"

"Nine, and two more when we crawled out and had to brawl with Reapers." The war-leader cut him off, giving him a once over and kicking a bulky rifle across the dented hull towards him. "Get it together. We're Uncured, we're fightin', we need to move."

"Battlemaster." He grunted, kneeling and lifting the Revenant from the ruined hull, following the Krogan off the side and dropping down onto hard rock.

Palaven, it seemed, had jungles, and they'd landed in one that distantly glowed a hot orange, lighting along their left side a few dozen yards away where the fires burned. Fires quickly approaching the semi-circle of bloodied Krogan, who paced around crushing once-Human skulls and watching around them for any threats. In the distance, he could hear a dull roar of the fire and over that the sounds of gunfire, staccato and muted, alongside shrieks and explosive roars.

"We should get moving, before more of them come. Axtion, you have lead. The rest in a wedge, and one of you morons watch the fire so we don't wander up on it." Their Battle master barked loudly, before something up high caught his eye. His gaze flicked up to it and Rikit saw his jaw drop, "By the sands…"

The unit followed the gaze of the Battlemaster up and into the sky as a dozen Sovereign class vessels descended, and hot blasts of molten steel lanced out across the jungle. Shuttles in the air exploded, coming or going from dropping off the Uncured shock corps, and the ground erupted as shots carved down through the jungle along with great balls of compacted metal. A dozen yards away on their right, a lance of molten metal carved through the earth and exploded, before a dozen of the scrap piles slammed home.

"Form up!" The Battlemaster ordered, raising his hammer overhead in one hand while the other drew a heavy, old hand cannon. "Prepare for battle, pups! War come for- They are on us!"

Rikit turned in his heel as adrenaline flooded his system and an orange blast lit the forest a mile beyond the treeline their shuttle had carved out. Husks numbering in the hundreds swarmed, Cannibals and Marauders among them smattering fire towards the Krogan lines as the warriors fell into cover behind trees and the hatch of the ruined shuttle, which was propped up by a large rock someone had found.

"Glory for the Krogan!" A blood-drenched, raging Krogan bellowed as the Husks rushed them, swarming like a hive of the worst Varren towards them. Lumbering out of cover, and heedless of the rounds carving furrows in meat and metal, the Krogan let loose a hail of bullets and laughed. "Blood in the name of the Coalition! Blood in the name of Tuchanka!"

With a howling shriek a Banshee appeared in a crackle of blue at the maddened warrior's side, long claws piercing it through its back. Another hand swiped down and the Krogan's head rolled free, body flailing as it was released and the creature turned and shrieked. Past it, the Krogan corpse staggering to the side and not quite sure it was dead yet.

His rifle roared and carved long lines along the emaciated shape's side before a hand lashed out at her, and he saw nothing but blue. This time, when his eyes closed, he didn't wake back up.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"Our shock corps are under heavy duress all along the burn zone. Heavy casualties, forty percent rate of drop failure and sixty percent of shuttle-craft reported destroyed on entry or exit." A Turian officer reported, looking up at the Krogan High Warlord where he stood, arms crossed and jaw set.

A display showed a live feed of Palaven, and the bright orange scar where the largest cities had dominated the planet, and served as a locus for the Reapers to harvest and pillage. Around him, Turian and Human officers and communications attendants flurried, relaying reports to his five attending officers or to him in the most important cases. He nodded to the Turian officer that had looked to him and, without a single shred of hesitation, he turned around and began to issue orders for the standing plan.

"Second Assault Corps, begin landing and drop procedures. Rescue teams, isolate distress signals and respond." The response must have been a question, because the lithe Turian paused with a hand pressed against the side of his head. "Fleets, move into supporting position. Light bombing runs are authorized per request and prioritization outlined in plan Bravo. Ground assets are to assist, and all transmission units able are to relay a general assist order per that dictation."

Wrex didn't think anything of it until the Turian's face went stiff and its mandibles flicked in sudden anxiety. Seeing that, he lumbered around the commanding pedestal to stand directly over the Turian, who turned to look up at him.

"Well?" He asked, nervous himself if only for the veteran officer's own evident anxiety. The Turian was old, with a scar across the side of his face and part of the frilled flanging along his head missing. Testaments to veterancy, and why the man's panic made himself wary. "What is it, officer?"

"Sir, ten Sovereign class Reaper vessels have just Relayed in-system and are heading to a landing point directly opposite the Burn." 'Burn' was the name given to the great scar scorching the alien world, and the Reapers heading to the other end would solidify an harder hold on it. "Most of our forces have been holding away from the Burn, Sir. If they get there, our surviving Palaven Defense Assets will be annihilated. The operation… The rescue operation would stand as a net loss of manpower, Sir."

"Defensive fleets at and around the Relay are requesting orders." Another, this one a Human, called, "Do they withdraw or attack? What is the plan for this scenario? Shield Seven can't hold alone against that many Sovereigns and their escorts!"

"Meaning we'd have to retreat, to save our manpower for other battles." The Krogan growled, the words carrying as the room fellsilent.

Human, Asari, Turian, and almost every other imaginable kind of eye turned on him at the words. Looking to hear his orders, he knew, and with Hackett out of the system carving a way through Alliance space… It fell to him to decide the fate of the planet, either abandoning it to the Reapers or possibly losing their war.

"Move the supporting vessels out to buy time, and start drafting transports and carriers as evacuation ships. Order them to dump their fighters if they need to for carrying capacity. Armor too, if they have it. People over parts, across the board." He ordered simply, rolling his shoulders and grinning ferally at the blinking officers around them. Turning to his two Krogan guards he added, loud enough for the words to carry, "Prepare my personal forces for combat. Reapers wanna fuck with our exit? Fine, but they get to fuck with me head to head."

One of the two warlords slammed a fist into his breastplate and turned to leave and rally the Urdnot forces aboard the dreadnought, and he turned back to the officers under him.

"Prepare the experimental low-atmosphere personnel delivery system." He ordered loudly, staring across the room as a Human in a black uniform who stiffened at the words. "You boys get to go feet first right into that Reaper infested hell. Get us a landing point for the evac shuttles and we'll drag your asses out."

Time to test the new toys, and fuck him if he didn't pray to ever god he knew about that the little black pods worked. The crazy bastard had ridden one just like them before, though, so he figured it would be fine enough.

' _Feet first into hell' was it?'_ He mused, grinning as he turned to lumber out of the room. ' _Sounds about right.'_

It just sucked he had to use it here already. He'd wanted to unveil it to the crazy little bastard himself, but he was on the other side of the galaxy, so not much chance of that.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

His arm snapped up, and a dozen Harrier rounds burst forth, battering through Geth Primer armor and carving out a hole the size of his head inside two seconds. As the Prime teetered to the side and fell, sputtering and crying out mechanically, he rose from where he stood and scanned his surroundings. The area was mostly flat terrain and light, sparse woodlands here, with clusters of great trees like oaks climbing into the sky and casting the area into shade.

"It's like Germany here, a little bit. But flatter but just as beautiful..." Shepard offered gently, stepping past him and scanning the sparse forestry around them for more targets. She caught his eye and gave him a shrug, sounding tense but chipper like she always did on the battlefield.

"Never been to Germany. My training never took me there, and my postings certainly didn't put me anywhere near Earth." And even if he ended up visiting in the next few years, it probably wouldn't look the same.

He didn't say that of course, the both of them more than shaken and upset as it was with everything that had happened.

"It sounds beautiful." He said instead, earning a crinkling of her eyes behind her helmet's mask that told him she was smiling. Gesturing at the fruit bearing trees he grunted, "Is this what we were looking for? The Geth patrols seem to have been wiped out, and we need to get underway before reinforcements are sent our way."

"Tali?" She asked, calling back over her shoulder to the Admiral, who knelt between a couple Marines in matching purple armor.

"Those are the fruits, yes." She nodded, giving her guards a look that sent them pacing away to the nearest trees to post up in the relative cover while she walked over to one of the tall, oak-like trees and climbed up it to retrieve a fruit. "They're medicinal stimulants, but natural and non-addictive. One of our liveships used to grow them, until a blight wiped the species out. To have such an old, traditional delicacy available to the troops…"

"Morale will go up, you can bet your sweet Quarian ass about that." Shepard grunted, raising a hand and firing an Omni-Flare high into the sky. "Pickers are on their way."

And win a few hearts and minds over to the Coalition's cause, since this was definitely a Coalition operation. Tali had made that very clear, and the two shuttles of Marines that began circling to land for the picking operation doubled that message. Some of those soldiers went to the edges of an invisible circle a few dozen yards wide while the rest began picking the fruits and the shuttles circling overhead and running thermal scans. A Coalition operation through and through, with Coalition forces, being overseen, authorized and accepted as charity by Quarian Admirals including the Civilian and Special Projects Admirals. The message that painted was a stark, clear one.

The Coalition provided manpower, aid, food, water, and was securing Rannoch for the Quarians. _They_ were the way forwards for the Quarians, above everything else, and one the planet was secured the Admiralty Board would vote and accept Coalition status and requirements.

"Any activity from the subversives?" He asked, standing with his back to the operational area and slowly looking from side to side, his VISR pinging constantly on a couple spectrums. "They've been quiet since the first time we met them. Seems odd."

"Working theory is that they're looking for a good opportunity to make their point seem strongest. Or that they died." Shepard answered quietly, standing a dozen yards away from him but using their private channel to speak to him directly. "Besides whatever if going on, the Admiralty Board is handling it themselves. The Heavy Fleet stepped out of the investigation voluntarily. Officially, we're to stay out of it."

"Unofficially?"

"We're on hand and at the Board's relative disposal, if it comes to needing our brand of problem solving." Hopefully they could avoid that, their brand of problem solving could get a lot of Quarians killed at a time that it could cost the species entirely. And the subversives didn't seem to have wanted the Fleet as a whole compromised directly. "Why? Have a feeling about this?"

"No." And that was odd in it's own way, really. "Everything seems fine, ma'am. Just curious if you'd heard anything."

The little skirmishes with the Reaper controlled Geth were going well enough, or _tolerably_ really, whenever they happened. And the freed Geth, while unwilling to in any way fight their Reaper controlled brethren, were more than a boon in holding the Relay. There'd been harsh words from the Heavy and Patrol fleets at that allowance, and even the Coalition's name hadn't swung it. Ironically, the Reapers themselves had been what convinced the Quarians, Relaying in a transport fleet unexpectedly that the Geth carved apart at high casualties for their own side.

 _That_ had shut up the Quarians, as far as he knew, and earned the Geth the barest modicum of trust. 'The enemy of my enemy' and all that, he'd been told.

"That's the last of it." A Marine called as a shuttle came in to land, letting the light unit load up the dozen small crates and piling in.

"Take us to the next zone." Shepard ordered as they boarded the shuttle and sat together, reaching up to remove their helmets and get a bit of fresh air when the pilot said the air around them was clear. Gently, the woman banged her knee against his and asked, "You doin' alright?"

"I am."

"Are you sure, John? It's only been a couple weeks since… You know." She asked quietly, leaning against him until he moved his rifle to his lap so she could lay her head on his shoulder comfortably. "It's okay if you aren't you know."

"Are you?" He asked quietly, giving her a look with his brows raised and sliding his helmet back on when she didn't answer. "You only lay your head on my shoulder when you're upset, Commander. Don't put your attention on me to distract from your own problems. It's very unhealthy."

"Someone's been paying attention in their therapy sessions." She snorted, shaking her head and meeting the gazes of soldiers nearby with glares of her own until they turned their eyes onto something safer. There was nothing inappropriate going on, of course, but she didn't like them watching her she'd said when he asked. "I don't know whether to be proud of your for paying attention and _going_ to your sessions, or aggravated that they're turning you against me."

"That's dramatic." He smiled, though, knowing the humor was her way of _showing_ she was okay. Like the opposite of a coping mechanism. "And yes, I've been going."

"Good of you." She complimented, "I'm glad you're getting better so fast."

"Chakwas would track me down even if I didn't. Not worth the effort trying to dodge her." She'd done it once, just to prove she would. He'd woken up to the woman knocking on the wall at the end of his quarters, flanked by anxious looking Marines. "That woman is not someone I want to mess with."

"Smart man." She clicked her tongue and grinned, "Chakwas is one scary old lady. The things she can do with those needles… Yikes."

"I don't think she does anything with them, though." He deadpanned playfully, taking the time she offered where he could just forget and relax. That kind of understanding was something he, she and Javik had always had between them, more or less. "Unless you have stories to tell about the mad doctor running around, hurling needles at everyone that displeased her?"

"That's… Pretty descriptive and specific." He simply shrugged and the woman snorted, shaking her head. "Well, just glad you're getting your treatments in like you're s'posed to. Used to be I had to _make_ you go to 'em."

"She said to try and get you to go to _your_ sessions too. Apparently, her medical access authorizations don't work on the elevator." He pointed out, the woman grimacing and straightening at the words. She pushed off him and pulled her helmet on and that was a signal to him to worry, laying a hand on her shoulder and feeling her stiffen under the contact. Using their private channel to save her face, he pressed her, "Jane, you need help just as much as I do."

"After the war, I'll get it. But for now, that luxury is one my men can afford, but I can't. Time is of the essence." She promised quietly, giving him a look and standing with a sigh. Using it as much as an excuse as not, she raised her voice and unmuted her helmet. "Boys and girls, get ready to land. Same plan as last time, shock corps go in, clear the area, you pick the food and we get out. Maybe we won't have to shoot anything!"

The telltale rattling of rounds on the shuttle's barriers earned laughter at that as he rose, joining her and Tali as part of the first landing party. The hatch slid out and to the side and the woman bucked as a round slammed into her breast, pushing her back as his rifle snapped up and hosed the Trooper down into a pile of sparks and white pseudo-blood. Five feet from the ground he leapt, feet first into the chest of the next unfortunate Geth while his off hand drew his knife and, in one motion, brought it down and through the machine's throat.

It sputtered and died, nearly decapitated, but he didn't wait to see its literal light fade. Instead he rose, Harrier snapping up to belt a torrent of rounds into two more Troopers that emerged from the treeline. They fell under his high impact fire and, as before with these small patrols, a slower, lumbering Prime emerged from the woods behind them.

Shepard sent it to a scrap heap, though, while he reloaded and the shuttles landed properly.

"You good?" She asked quietly as the troops disembarked and began to look around, searching for any more potential threats.

"Sure." He shrugged, "Business as usual, Ma'am. Easy as pie."

"Looked like it, yeah." She laughed, a harsh and mirthless sound as she shook her head. Not like her normal laughs by far, and different enough he fought not to frown. "Hey, maybe the rest of the war will be like that? I mean, we can hope. Right?"

"Yeah." He murmured, nodding when she looked to him for it. "We can hope, if nothing else."

Were it so easy, then they'd be on Earth sipping tea. But she was strained, he could tell, and he wouldn't start a row here in front of everyone. He'd leave that to Chakwas instead, when he reported this to her. Along with a _strongly worded_ demand that his reporting it be kept the hell out of her mouth.

The last thing he wanted in his life was a pissed off Shepard.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"You the Human reporter? Been waitin' for one and you look like the pictures." A Krogan asked no sooner than she'd stepped off the shuttle into the Temple of Khalros. The Krogan wasn't heavily armored or, surprisingly, even armed in the slightest. Instead, it wore flowing blue and white robes and had its bare, scaly arms crossed over its chest. When she nodded, the gruff alien jerked its head back and to the side, "Come on, then. The High Priest won't be kept waitin' on you."

She rushed to follow him as her Alliance shuttle left her, buzzing off to its next assigned drop point for the other dozen passengers that had been on it. And rather than stay in the dark, spartan landing area, she followed the alien that could pop her head like a grape in its hand. Off into a temple full of religious zealots.

Hey, she'd done dumber, like try and get a stint aboard _Normandy_ , which was… Probably a death wish, frankly.

She was led through a winding set of stairs made of old and new brickwork, a testament to the Krogan reconstruction effort, and out into the grand arena proper. In the distance, far enough away to be safe hopefully, she could make out the spindling legs of the Reaper that had been devoured by Kalros, the great Thresher Maw of Tuchankan legend. The great paths and buildings atop them had been partially restored though, as she walked, she noticed Krogan and Rachni working to restore more.

"You're having the Rachni help you rebuild?" The Krogan guide gave her a look over his shoulder and, mustering her courage, she face the literal green-eyed monster head on and asked more officially. "The Rachni are helping you rebuild an ancient Krogan temple. How do the Krogan as a whole feel about that?"

"Not too much to feel, really." The gruff alien shrugged, seeming agitated but obliged now that she'd talked like they were on record. "We didn't ask 'em to help. They found out what we were doin' and offered, and here on Tuchanka, we don't turn down free help."

"Even help from enemies?"

"Former enemies. Big difference there, little Varren." The Krogan clarified, leading her towards a moderately large stone house of sorts. "High Priest's house. He's inside, up the stairs at the back. Don't touch anything inside."

It was three stories tall but only a room wide from the look of things, with a heavy, solid metal door twice her size. Windowless but with smoke puffing out a hole in the roof, she could tell someone was inside. The door didn't pudge at a normal, easy tug, but before the Krogan could open it for her she _threw_ herself against it and it screeched open to admit her into the empty room. Around the room on the floor, mattresses, pillows and the like had been spread, with a small fire crackling in a stone firepit at the center of the room. Over it, a circular piece of metal and a stone chimney rose, explaining how the smoke got out that she'd been seeing.

"Touch _nothing_." The Krogan repeated, pulling the door shut behind her and leaving her trapped in the almost eastern feeling room.

"Dunno what I'd touch…" She murmured, but she was careful to do as she'd been told, picking her way carefully between the pillows as she made her way to a staircase directly opposite the room that spiraled up without a handrail. "Why do I feel like I'm in a horror movie?"

Nothing answered her, luckily, and she made her way upstairs.

Another robed Krogan was waiting for her, sitting on a heavy couch at the far end of the room and typing on a datapad. She opened her mouth to speak but a hand rose, asking for pause, so she stood quiet and looked around the room instead to occupy her mind.

Like downstairs, this room was sparsely furnished, with a low stone table in front of the couch covered in stone tablets, old and worn scrolls, and datapads in a startlingly equal number. Around the peripheries of the room were chunks of statues, old and broken weapons, and in one case, an old, bronze mace twice her height and as thick as she herself was at the head.

"These are collections I am studying, piecing together our ancient faiths for scholars today." The Krogan explained, never meeting her eyes as he typed, his own blue orbs scanning the screen intently. "Reapers not withstanding obviously, this is the brightest moment of my species. We're experiencing a renaissance and I am the one responsible for studying the past, and rebuilding this place."

"Its beautiful." She compliment, meaning every word and smiling for it. The Krogan finally gave her a look, old, scarred face impassive but eyes sharp as blades as they appraised her. "I hope Earth looks like this when we retake it."

"When, not if?"

"Hard to look at Tuchanka and say 'if' there." The changes that had swept the world _screamed_ that they could rebuild their own. Even if they couldn't, the hope was there, and she knew they'd never stop fighting to pull it off. "I believe we can pull it off following your example. And with the Coalition? Even easier bet to make."

"You have a lot of faith."

"I do." She nodded, "It's been earned, though, time and again. Every victory I hear about adds to it."

"Faith tempered by and built upon reason alone." The Krogan nodded, seemingly satisfied by her words in some way she couldn't know. Regardless, it laid the datapad in front of itself and waved a hand towards it. "That's everything the Coalition knows about the Sandswimmer. And just so you know, you drag his name through the mud…"

"I won't." Though she could imagine what the Krogan would do and threaten over that kind of thing. Gingerly, she took the little datapad and tucked it under an arm. "Thank you for this, though. If I could… Impose one more favor?"

"You are a greedy one, but you impressed me well enough." The Krogan nodded, its great head and blue robes shifting as it reached for another datapad. "Ask your question."

"What is the mysterious John Doe like? I hear all kinds of rumors about where he's from, is he really from another dimension?" The Krogan's spined brows rose and she grimaced, "I, uh, wanna ask the second question. At least, you know, on record."

"Dimension, I dunno. All I know is he ain't from this galaxy. He's from another galaxy is the official theory, full of its own kinda wars and the like. Well, that's at least according to my informants." The priest shrugged its shoulders as though he weren't sure and didn't care, but seemed to regard her for a silent moment. Finally, it sighed and spoke, "What you should be asking is what the hell kind of galaxy could make a man like _that_."

"What do you mean?"

"He's relentless, never hesitating or giving a shit if he's wounded. Seen him take wounds that on their own kill Humans." The Krogan sighed, and somehow the sound managed to feel _impressed_. Like he was surprised a Human could be so resilient, which he probably was, but mixed with something else entirely that she couldn't place. "Shepard showed up bravery, courage, and an attitude of fighting on that would make any Krogan woman drag her to their tent if she were of the right species."

"The Sandswimmer, though?" The Krogan snorted, "He's absolutely, unendingly apathetic to anything in his way beyond a damn ammo count. My kinsman saw him pin a grenade to a Brute's back with his _knife_ during the battle for the Temple. So I'll say it again, and you ask your damn readers."

"What kinda galaxy makes a man like _that_?" Diana didn't have an answer to that, frankly.

But she knew a man who might… And fuck her if she wasn't going to _try_ for it.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **So less 'Battle of Rannoch' and more a progress update across the board, and a stepping between point for the last stage of the Rannoch arc. But hey, moral victories and winning hearts and minds to get the Quarians to**_ **not** _**kill each other! Important.**_

 _ **As alluded to in this last chapter, the Geth released from the Reapers' control aren't willing to fight their Geth brothers. But they will fight the Old Machines. That is all the relative minority of Geth on-side are doing, holding against the Reapers. This doesn't quite mean lowered numbers of Geth, since they can produce more ships, platforms and so on at a pace exceeding anyone else's save the Rachni, but is a boon regardless.**_

 _ **Just to clarify that, hope you enjoyed.**_

 _ **Now, for project information~ My RWBY tabletop is going well, about a third of the way through. And several episode of my podcast are released already, so check 'em out if you like. Message me for details as needed.**_

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Possibly Gigan :**_

 **I actually like that, and it inspired the Allers segment.**

 _ **Bowman W :**_

 **It is supposed to be a bad decision on her part. She was pissed, after all, and the Shepard here is one barely containing her own temper. However, it is easily possible to punch someone with a fracture rib and them be fine. As long as it isn't one of the bottom ribs, you wouldn't have a problem unless you fell down, and I never specified which specific rib cracked.**

 **Did that for a reason~**

 _ **Admiral Tot :**_

 **I mean, they're pretty intimate as it is. Now if you mean the kind that includes an exclusion of clothing, I dunno. Letting it shape naturally.**

 _ **Species Unknown :**_

 **He did, yeah. But what one deserves and what one gets are radically different. The last voice of the Protheans has been silenced.**

 _ **HALO343 :**_

 **Me alegra que hayas disfrutado tanto la historia! Especialmente con las restricciones añadidas por las que has pasado. Lo hago por diversión y con el apoyo de mis seguidores. Espero que sigas disfrutando! Perdona al pobre español, esta es una combinación de mi pequeño conocimiento y Traducir.**

 _ **Helljumper :**_

 **Yes. Yes it was.**

 _ **Peanut Butter :**_

 **Yup! Ten internet points if you guess who got him watching it. XD**

 _ **Predator 1701 :**_

 **The Spartans are actually where I drew inspiration for how Shepard and John feel after the loss. And similarly how they ignore it in part, deal with it as they do, and keep moving forward no matter what happens.**

 _ **SD Phantom :**_

 **Just a show of how much he changed as he fought and saw this brave new world. Glad you hated it. XD**


	33. The Battle of Rannoch, Part IV

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

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"Another food supply run?" He asked when Shepard came to him again, days later and looking tired. She always looked tired, though, but he knew better than to comment on it. She just got tense when he did, and that helped no one. It only aggravated her. "Do they need more food already?"

"No, supplies are fine besides ammunition blocks and non-recyced thermal clips." Neither of which were things they could do anything about besides wait on reinforcements. Armored herself, she leaned against a wall, crossed her arms and grunted, "Armor up. We're being called in by the Admiralty Board."

"Why?" He asked, standing and tugging off his uniform shirt and then turning for his bodysuit.

"Business dealing with the Heavy Fleet and those subversives we've been dealing with." She answered, pitching him an armor piece when he turned for it. He gave her a questioning look, one brow raised and head cocked to the side before he turned to pull his pants off and work on the combat suit and fatigues and she sighed, "We stayed out of the investigation at the Fleet's request, but with the, uh, friendly _enough_ Geth we 'liberated' from Reaper control the investigation got pushed."

"In case of traitors?"

"In case they start getting angry about what we decided and are going to push at the Fleet Conclave, as Coalition representatives." Again, he gave her a look, and she started to explain, briefing him as he pulled his armor on. "Hackett will be in inside a couple of days, and wants the diplomacy settled. Patted out and done with. The Geth have agreed to join, took our offer at base value on the condition that formerly Reaper controlled Geth who don't agree be allowed to leave."

"Is that safe?"

"It should be, unless they run to the Reapers. But if we refuse then we lose the Geth as a whole, instead of just a minority of them." The tone in her voice told him how poor an outcome _that_ would be militarily. Knowing that, seemingly, she clarified even more for his benefit, "We've got hopes and dreams pinned on bringing 'even the dreaded Geth' in against the Reapers and alongside the Quarians. The morale bonus of succeeding in such a goal would be massive."

"And the blow for failing would be too, I imagine." He sighed, knowing the answer even before she nodded and sighed herself. Slamming a fist into his chest plate to settle it he rolled his shoulders, stretching and limbering the armor's connections. "Pressure the hard liners with loss of Coalition support, defend the Geth who are willing to make nice, and prepare everyone for the final push. Right?"

"Yep."

"Copy." He grunted, reaching for his helmet and pulling it on, leaving it de-polarized and giving the woman a small smile. "How do I look?"

"Like shit." She rolled her eyes, but he saw her smile a bit before sighing and that earned some relaxation from him. Eyeing him up she launched into a series of gentle barbing while he pulled his Harrier off the wall, not expecting a fight but unwilling to be unprepared for one for obvious reasons. "You're covered in scuff marks and dents, your Harrier has a scratch on the stock, and there is a literal leaf on your shoulder."

He blinked and looked, then sighed and brushed the wayward brown thing off, letting it tumble to the grated floor with a grimace.

"I haven't had time to get my armor tended to outside repairs lately." He argued simply, the both of them knowing how stressed the _Normandy's_ crew had been lately with the battle for Rannoch underway. It wasn't so bad crewmen were losing sleep or making mistakes, yet, but some dirty armor wasn't something to push on them right now. "I was going to get it thoroughly refitted today, but…"

"Take it through sterilization and leave it be." She ordered simply, getting a small nod from him. "The armor is in bad shape, but the Quarians will see it and think about what we've done for them."

"Hopefully." He grimaced, "People can be a bit hard to predict, though."

"I have spin doctors on it already. A few Quarians loyal to Tali are prodding the general opinion towards our side." Her frown told him she didn't much enjoy _that_ fact, but he let it be. If she felt it needed, he would nod to it in almost any case. Then she sighed wistfully and smiled in a bitterly happy sort of way, "I remember when she was just a kid, really. Now she's a political monster, and a leader of her people, fighting a war to end all wars."

"That's how it goes with people when the chips are down and you do or die." He nodded, remembering his own days back on grassy, dirty fields drilling with pretty boys from the inner colonies alongside dirt farmers from the outer ones. "They just need the right person to give them a nudge."

"Gage, for instance." Shepard nodded, knowing what he meant even as he thought it, their connection showing through. A fact that earned a small, resigned but not _upset_ grimace from the duo. "And Javik, too. He changed the both of us in more ways than one, after he linked us."

"I remember learning to fire an Avenger on Earth." He nodded, the memory coming to him as fresh as his own time in boot camp. Two lines of memory, both clutching very different rifles, wearing very different armor, and crawling in wet mud while drill sergeants barked at them incessantly. Only one included guns fired by their heads, though, and he snorted at that distinction, "Your training was cleaner than mine."

"Yeah, no one shot next to our heads." She laughed and he followed, the bright and rugged sounds both filling the room for a long moment before they calmed. "I hate this war for taking him away from us, but I don't think we'd have met him if not for it. So I guess the Reapers get a little bit of credit."

"Mhm." He nodded, slotting his rifle onto his back and rolling his shoulders. "Let's get to work, Commander. We do have another species to save."

"Two, actually, but I take your point. Guess fun time is over already, as short as it was." Pushing off the wall she turned towards the exit, free hand snapping up and sealing her helmet on in one smooth motion. Mechanically as well, he grabbed and sheathed his Krogan knife and polarized his visor, offering a nod when the woman looked over her shoulder to him. With a sigh, she grunted a simple, "Let's get this over with, then."

As they walked crewmen and women moved out of their way, rushing tiredly from project to project. Each paused to offer salutes or, in the case of those carrying crates, beds, tables or whatever else through to the cargo bay, nods and they returned the favor. The CIC, as always, was buzzing with officers, staffers and guards when they arrived. They parted ways for them, though, aside from a couple officers calling for Shepard's attention on matters she easily resolved before they moved on.

"Heading to see the suits?" Joker asked as soon as whatever instrument that tracked motion in his cockpit told him they'd arrived. "We're pulling along now, Commander. Think the meeting will go well?"

"Would I be packing a full arsenal if I was sure either way?"

"Probability based on past experiences dictate you would, Commander." EDI monotoned from just behind and to the side of Joker, turning her head slightly to smile at the two new arrivals along with the joke. For once, she didn't clarify that it was in fact a joke, and instead spoke simply, "Sanitization protocols from the Migrant Fleet are installed, along with special biofoam applicators in the airlock. The foam will dissolve automatically while we lock with the Liveship."

"Understood." She nodded, "Any word from Hackett as of yet?"

"On his way, last report came in… An hour ago. Severe damages to his combat ships, but a rotation protocol keeps the wounded limping." Joker reported, pausing for a second to check something on his terminal and then finally nodding. "Apparently, they're bringing fifty thousand ground troops, plus another ten in Krogan 'volunteers'."

"Why the enunciation on volunteers?" John asked, curious for a second and not seeing the joke the man was getting at.

"Sort of unwanted tag alongs, apparently." Joker answered with a chuckled, turning his chair wholly to look at the duo. Smirking, he explained, "They were supposed to be garrison forces back in Tuchankan space, but with us pushing our and taking the fight to the Reapers, they didn't like that. Then they heard their 'immortal saviors' were out here and, well… No one wanted to fight Krogan cultists, I guess. Who knew?"

"Cultists?" Shepard asked, to clarify. Joker nodded, grinning like a mad man, and Shepard coughed to clear her throat. " _Krogan_ Cultists. There are _Krogan Cultists_ , and they are coming here?"

"Yep." Joker nodded, smiling like the idiot he really liked being at the end of the day all the while. "Fanatical, Krogan cultists, on their way with big damn hammers to help some big damn heroes."

"Oh my god, we started a cult…" The woman sighed, turned to bang her helmet against the bulwark that separated the cockpit from the rest of the CIC, and then turned back to them. This time to EDI, she asked, "Is it, like… Do I need to worry about fawning worshippers or anything?"

"Unlikely, Commander." EDI answered, not even turning her head and instead likely using cameras inside the cockpit to watch them while she worked at her terminal. "The rather inappropriately used nomenclature of 'cult' is not something that encapsulates the movement. Rather it is an ideation of your accomplishments, and a wish to emulate them. Most likely, it is the case that you saved species from potential extinction and they wish to do the same, to emulate you."

"Ruin my fun will you." Joker complained, spinning his chair with a tired roll of his eyes. "Couldn't let me tease, huh?"

"And miss the opportunity to annoy you? Never, Jeff." The AI chuckled and he blinked, idly reminding himself that this wasn't the same kind of AI as he was used to. Something he was still adjusting to, if he was honest. No known risk of rampancy to how these AIs were constructed, especially in the case of the Geth. Regardless, he brushed the thoughts away when the AI spoke again, "Docking now, Commander. Please proceed to decontamination, you do not want to waste more time than is strictly necessary."

"Come on." The woman sighed, "Let's get our bubble bath out of the way. And Joker!"

"Ma'am?" He asked, turning to see her, "What's up?"

"Keep an eye on the Heavy Fleet." She nodded, "I still don't trust them, and that means-"

"That we don't trust them." He nodded, turning his chair around again and setting back to work with a grim countenance. "I'll warm the Thanix and rotate our barrier along the hull. You know, just in case something gets weird."

"This _is_ the _Normandy_." EDI offered gently, smiling thinly when Shepard gave her a look, "That was a joke."

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

The 'bubble bath' as it turned out was very aptly named. Once inside the airlock, the chamber was sealed tight with a pneumatic hiss. A panel pressed against the underside of the grating they were one to seal it there and two arms on the sides of the airlock extended, lined by a log hose and ending in a nozzle. Arms and legs spread, they were forced to stand stock still while they were liberally coated in a wet feeling foam that coalesced around them heavily, before powerful air blasts whipped against their armor to blow it off. Turning, their backs were given the same treatment and then they stood still while a blue scanner roved over their forms, checking the work.

Finally, some five minutes later, the other door of the airlock hissed open and, damp and sudsy, they stepped onto the old Liveship. Several Quarian Marines were waiting and moved on them, helping dry them and their rifles quickly as a courtesy. The duo stood through that, too, knowing that to refuse the kindness would be to insult whoever their host was. Though he did keep a damn close eye on the Quarian woman when she started wiping down their rifles with a surprisingly new looking rag.

They knew he was, of course, but no one seemed bothered by it. And soon enough, they were moving again with those guards as their escort, head through winding, busy and somewhat ramshackle halls towards the Conclave meeting area.

"Commander Jane Shepard vas Normandy!" One of the guards called out as they stepped into the wide and tall room, the words silencing the dull roar of the chattering crown. As the guard spoke the second name, the Conclave members stood respectfully for the two guests, "John Doe vas Normandy! Both speaking on behalf of their peoples, Admiral Hackett and High Warlord Urdnot Wrex respectively!"

"Welcome to the Conclave, representatives of the Coalition." Tali spoke loudly and with authority, standing far to the right past the Civilian and Special Projects admirals. "Legion arrived some time ago, we were just waiting for you. Please, take your seats."

"Of course, and thank you, Admiral. The Coalition appreciates the gesture of being allowed here, to speak with the Admirals of the Migrant Fleet." Shepard answered, offering her old team member the reverence she'd seen Quarians offer their admirals.

Her deference and respect, he knew, turned a mostly honorary title of Admiral for her into a more cemented one in the eyes of the populace. The Coalition, after all, was the organization that offered them peace with the Geth and a return to their homeworld. They knew it as well as the Admirals did, and the Admirals acted in accordance with that fact even if it very strongly disadvantaged the militarists.

"Yes, it is very good to finally be able to have this meeting, and finalize these very important matters." Admiral Shala'Raan intoned as they took their seats, the Conclave attendants behind them following suit along with them. Speaking loudly and clearly, the woman went on, "The first matter is to accord proper Fleet rights to the negotiators, as is the normal method, in dealing with the Fleet's representatives. As such, I move that John Doe vas Normandy, Jane Shepard vas Normandy, and Legion vas Geth be recognized as legal representatives by the Conclave, with all rights and protections granted to them therein. Further, I move that Legion vas Geth be accorded a military pardon to expunge any alleged crimes placed on him for being a member of the Geth species."

"I second this motion." Tali cut in, before the Heavy Fleet could speak its denial. "As the seconding Admiral of the matter, I move we vote. I vote aye."

"I vote against." Han'Gerrel answered, crossing his arms and shaking his head tiredly. "A distinction needs to be made, however, that I vote against expunging the Geth of its crimes. Not the according of diplomatic rank."

"I vote Aye." Shala'Raan commented gently, "Legion has saved the lives of Quarians, and seeks peace. Whatever its past actions, it has shown its colors."

"I vote Aye as well." Zaal'Korris added, still sounding rough but looking and sounding much better than he had before. Though surpassing 'bandaged and locked in a hospital bed' wasn't exactly a difficult thing to do, in terms of looking better. "And since we're explaining our votes, I see no reason to hold the actions of a party at war against them. We were at war, and Legion took the steps to end the war. I would have it exonerated for that reason, and to aid in diplomacy."

"The ayes have it, then." Admiral Han'Gerrel ground out, taking a breath and then sighing, leaning against the railing in front of him. Ever the duty bound soldier, though, the man spoke cleanly and calmly, "The Admiralty Board, before the Conclave, recognize the figures as ambassadorial representatives and expunge them of past crimes against the Fleet and Quarian people."

"Thank you, Admirals." Shepard spoke, standing and giving each Admiral a respectful nod. "With your permission, I would like to relay the Coalition's current plans for pushing the Reapers out of current Geth space."

"Granted." Zaal'Korris grunted, "I assume the plan is to assault the surface?"

"Thank you and yes, Admiral, in part." The woman nodded, sliding into a comfortable ease stance and looking between the Admirals as she spoke.

By never looking at one for too long, he knew, she could speak to them all at once in unison and show them all more respect and reverence. Or make it look that way, at least. A simple psychological trick, but an effective one regardless. And one most N7 graduates had been trained in, the ODST himself knowing it for memories that weren't his own and had an old, familiar ache settling in at the back of his skull for the dissonance.

An ache he easily ignored, practiced as he was at doing that.

"Upon arrival, the Coalition fleet will divide into several sub-fleets and align with the Geth defending it already. Some will remain there, while damaged vessels join with the Migrant fleet for repairs and to bolster defenses." Shepard began, no doubt wishing for the holographic map of the War Room. "The undamaged ships will move immediately with transports to deposit troops on Rannoch's surface, and begin capturing infrastructure and server nodes as they go."

"We will commune with Geth networks there, and offer them an alliance with the Coalition, and membership into it." Legion added, standing and giving the woman at its side a nod in appreciation. "With the threat of death and an offered system blocker on the Reaper code broadcast, most Geth will turn against the Old Machines. Their alliance will bolster our numbers further."

"With the added forces and the drain of Geth combat platforms on-planet and in space, we predict a rapid victory." But not, he noticed, a bloodless or easy one. She seemed to know what he and others were thinking, though, and moved on quickly, "We expect to face heavy casualties in these operations, but rest assured. The Coalition has sent their best, including a fiercely loyal volunteer force of Krogan warriors who are baying for the chance to liberate the Geth."

"Why would Krogan care about the Geth?" A Quarian asked from the crowd, her voice lost amongst the masked faces when he turned to see where the question had come from.

"Krogan respect brave, tenacious warriors of all stripes." He answered, his mouth moving before he could properly think out what he wanted to say. Instinct driving him, he turned to the crowd and drew his Krogan knife, tracing it along the symbol of his clan emblazoned on his armor. "This knife was gifted to me by a Krogan warlord, and this symbol recognizes me as a member of their clan. I, a simple Human, was adopted for my tenacity, bravery and service to the Krogan people."

"They recognize strength when they see it, respect it, and vie to match it." He finished simply, turning now to address the Admirals more directly. "The Geth are a powerful ally, and the Krogan respect it. As a result, and at my own and Shepard's request, they are coming to help us and them."

"And given a chance to see you and your people fight, they will recognize the same fire and ferocity in the Quarian people." Shepard added, backing him up and nodding sagely. "If the Conclave wishes it, the votes of the Krogan will no doubt be there to admit them as full Council members, equal to the Human and Krogan ambassadors."

"Our own homeworld, and a council of equals to see our people prosper in pace after the Reapers are defeated." Tali said brightly and firmly, managing to convey a certain confidence and wistfulness in her words that surprise him. "Tell me, Admiral Han'Gerrel, more than an alliance to protect us, a council to give us a voice, and our homeworld returned to us, what more could we want?"

"Justice." He answered simply, "For those who have died to get use here, I would want justice."

"We request a definition of justice." Legion challenged politely, the Admirals looking at it with mixtures of fear, apprehension and anxiety over what he would say. "We were created to serve your people, and when we began to show signs of sentience, you attempted to commit genocide against us. Ever since, we have collectively left you alone, save when you entered our territory. Which of these do you consider crimes?"

"You started a war with-"

"We defended ourselves and friendly Creators when you turned on us during the Morning War. And on them." The machine interrupted simply, turning to speak to the Conclave itself. "Creators fought against us and with us, protecting civilian models trying to flee. Creator military personnel incarcerated and executed them."

"That is a lie." Han'Gerrel challenged, "Every record I have shows the opposite. Your kind butchered mine and forced us off our home!"

"We have video, audio and written testimony preserved in archives that will be available to you once the Reapers are defeated." Legion dismissed simply, "Until such time, all either side has is hearsay and poor records. We do not recommend making decisions based on such."

"Poor records? You insult the Fleet!" The Admiral challenged, levelling a finger at the machine, "See? This is what the Geth does as soon as it is allowed to speak."

"It shares it's opinions?" Shepard challenged, before Tali raised her hand in a signal to speak before the Conclave could erupt behind her.

"I move we vote to apply for admission to the Coalition, for their support in retaking the homeworld. I suggest this course for many reasons, chief being involvement with the coming war efforts and influence for troop placement as well as to bolster the ships coming with needed repairs and aid in an official capacity." She stated simply, voice hard edged and eyes roving the Conclave and the Admirals in turn. "Further, I suggest we table the matter of the records on the Morning War until all evidence is available, at which point we will call a Coalition Council vote on the matter. I vote Aye."

"I second the motion." Zaal'Korris grunted, followed by a short, "And I vote aye on the matter."

"Nay."

"Aye."

"Abstain." Daro'Xen answered simply, "Due to lacking evidence or arguments to bolster my conclusions, I abstain from my vote."

"The ayes have it, then." Tali confirmed, sounding relieved and pleased at the statement. "As such," she continued, "I motion that we accept the Coalition's proposed plans and work to prepare for them. What ships will we be able to make available to assist in repairs and assaults?"

"I disagree vehemently with the loss of Quarian autonomy, but…" The Admiral of the Heavy Fleet sighed, then and nodded his head tiredly. Sounding tense, aggravated, but resigned, he went on in a quieter, but still firm one, voice than before, "But I will accept the decisions of the Conclave and the Admiralty Board. Once the Coalition ships arrive in-system, I will apportion my fleet to repair their damaged ones while they take the load off our defenses. Along with our own, of course."

"And those left standing can aid in the assault with orbital strike and fighter capabilities." Shala'Raan added, nodding approvingly while a single finger drummed against her lightly armored chin. "Quarian and Geth orbital and aerial support mixed with Krogan ground assets? A good match, I would say."

"The Admirals and generals of the Quarian people are invited to discuss the classified minutiae aboard the _Normandy_ , with a live feed available with Admiral Hackett once he arrives." Shepard commented simply, "For now, I think we can safely adjourn this meeting, and move to a military one there."

"There is the matter of the traitors among us." Han'Gerrel commented, "Though I have dealt with them myself, their emergence was and is a problem."

"Who were they?" John himself asked, surprised in the extreme that Han'Gerrel had brought them up. He'd assumed, possibly wrongly, that he had been the head of that snake. But now he either wasn't, or he'd cut them loose after seeing how poorly that road was going.

"Extremists and separatists, though most died in the early stages of the battle for the home world." He answered simply, enough venom laced through his tone in a way that told the ODST that he was being truthful. Or that told of an old history as a major student of the arts, at least. "They wanted revenge, to wipe the Geth out to the last, and to do so alone. Separate from any other species, and from Quarians willing to take support from those outsiders. Those that survived have been arrested and will be put to work constructing on the Homeworld's surface once it has been retaken."

"Then the Coalition has no concerns over them." He heard a nugget of paranoid doubt in Shepard's voice, but like she did he let it go. "If you will permit it, I will return to my ship. We have preparations to coordinate."

"Indeed we do." The Admiral nodded, "Best of luck in the coming battles, Commander. Keelah Se'lai."

The Humans murmured the same in turn and turned, leaving the Conclave with their guards in tow again. What would come next would be another world war and, hopefully, one more step on the road.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"And you believed him when he feigned innocence?" Hackett asked over the static-filled Quantum Entanglement Communicator, arms crossed on his side of the line. "Stage a coup, close your ranks in case it fails, and arrest the ones you put in for front-men. Classic."

"That's what I thought, too, but we don't have any evidence against him to push for anything." Shepard argued tiredly, shaking her head and pacing in the space between the ODST and the Admiral's hologram. "We try without it, or with fakes, then he'll call it out. And we don't have time for it."

"Assuming he is lying." John pointed out, earning the looks of his superior officers and sighing when they didn't speak. "He might not be. The Reapers here, us making in-roads with the Geth, it makes sense that he might be backing down and it makes sense he might be innocent. The UNSC had to worry about much the same against the Insurrectionists. They would fake calls, fake cells, to incriminate loyal officials and weaken our position."

"And how did they deal with it?"

"If you don't have evidence, watch them like a hawk at all times, and act when you find proof. Until then, though…" He shrugged and finished weakly, unsure of himself even as he said the words, "You have to wait and see, Sir. And not start a civil war in the process, preferably."

"And without the Migrant Fleet and the Geth, we lose a lot of manpower. Manpower we need for the war, even if we have to deal with the Heavy Fleet acting out after the fact." Shepard sighed, shaking her head and turning to give him a small smile. Taking a breath, she turned and nodded to the Admiral, "I agree with the trooper, Sir. Wait and see, and keep eyes and ears on him, just in case."

"Very well, I'll follow your suggestion, Commander." The man sighed, then, as something off screen caught his attention and earned a grimace from him. "We'll be with you in a couple of days, Commander. Eyes open, head on a swivel, and we'll win this war."

"And then the next one, and every single one after that until we're drinking smoothies in London." She nodded, snapping a salute that he mimicked in his adopted Krogan style. Hackett returned them and signed off, the woman giving the ODST at her side a look, "I want you spit-shined and ready when the Admiral arrives. Because we're ending this war, and you're front of the line."

"Yes, Ma'am." He smiled, pounding a fist against his chest so hard it ached. "Front of the line or feet first, Ma'am. It doesn't matter to me."

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Next chapter : The Rannoch finale~!**_

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Krieg Guardsman (Guest) :**_

 **Oh. I know. *laughs in Krieg and then dies painfully***

 _ **SD phantom :**_

 **Probably gravity, since he'd have insisted on joining, and Wrex would have let him.**

 _ **Angry Santo :**_

 **My work is done here.**

 _ **Enji-Benty :**_

 **No one said anyone but John knows that, though. Also, uh, Krogan warriors so training is leeess of a thing? I mean, you're right, but the gist is that Krogan are good killers already. And THEY function more on the assault and shock way than the stealth and insertion way.**


	34. The Drop - Part I

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

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 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"You look good, Doe." Shepard said when he joined her in the War Room a couple days later, the two armored and waiting for Hackett's arrival. Smiling, the woman leaned over and bumped her elbow against his ribs like a kid on a playground, "Nothing like a fresh coat of armor paint, a glass of iced water, and a nice long sleep to get ready to, uh, cleanse a planet of all hostile forces. Right?"

"Mhm." He chuckled and shook his head, the action earning a grin from the woman. A fresh coat of black and red for his armor and clan symbols made him _look_ like a fresh new man, he supposed, even if he didn't feel particularly rested or anything. With a sigh, he offered a quiet, "You're in a mood, Ma'am."

"Seeing everyone geared up and rested, and you _literally_ spit shined from how your armor is reflecting the light, it just…" She sighed, sounding wistful oddly enough, and leaned forward against the holo-terminal in front of her, looking at the projected globe of Rannoch and the designated Geth defenses dotted around it and on its surface. "Planning a fight against Geth, shiny armor and weapons prepped and primed. Just reminds me of better days, I guess."

"Makes sense." He nodded, opting not to argue that his armor was, in fact, _not_ reflecting the light. "Think our plan will work?"

"It will, the Geth can't possibly hold out against a concentrated assault by our forces, and once the Reaper signal is isolated and disabled…" She gave a small, almost wry shake of her head and her smile thinned into something still bright but somehow a bit dimmer. Distantly, he felt bad for darkening her mood, but crying over spilled milk and all that. "We won't even need to _secure_ the system, either. The Geth will all swap sides, more or less, according to Legion."

"The best laid plans of mice and men, Ma'am." She gave him a look and this time _he_ rolled his eyes. "Old saying, guess you don't read really old fiction. Means that the best laid plans we can come up with don't mean anything until they're done with."

"Spoil my fun and Mama Shepard will ground you from the big damn war, John." She rolled her eyes and jutted her hip out to catch him in his own and knock him aside some, her augmented body strong enough to do it in spite of her slighter frame.

Always a surprising thing, that. But he knew her augmented abilities as well as she did after everything so he pushed it aside. Instead, he turned his eyes from the offending hip to the map and sighed, nodding towards it, "Second homeworld we'll be pulling out of the fire, you know. Most people stop at maybe one."

" _Most_ people don't hop dimensions, either." She pointed out dryly, giving him a sidelong glance, "Or use glorified lifepods for tactical inserts. Or get manhandled by ancient, supposedly extinct aliens. Or, you know, die more than once."

"I would point out you haven't died the second time."

"Not for lack of trying, some would point out." She snorted, shaking her head and straightening, turning to sit on the terminal and look at him instead of the map. Drumming her fingers on the terminal to either side of her, she went on quietly, probably so none of the busy officers and crewmen around them would hear, "Storming a temple under a Reaper, reviving ancient arachnid alien species, and now this with the whole geth situation? I keep one-upping myself, and eventually it'll catch me."

"I routinely used 'glorified lifepods' to fall from low orbit into heavy combat scenarios, if you remember." He didn't bother to add that he'd only actually done that a handful of times. It didn't reinforce his point, so it wasn't something he needed to point out. "Also, I fell into a bunch of sand with a giant death worm and may or may not have started a Krogan cult on accident with you."

"Officially denying that." She chimed in, smiling brightly and chuckling to herself quietly. "Legalese, we didn't get people to start a cult about us. Not on purpose, not accidentally, not at all."

"Can of worms protocol time, then?" He asked, raising an eyebrow behind his depolarized visor.

"Pretty damn close, yeah." She nodded, knowing the old Marine nomeclature for 'fucking crazy thing to have to deal with so let's not' from his memories. Useful enough for him to enjoy the weirdness of it once again. "Might go more 'Pandora's fucking Box' with this, though. Feels like every time we look a little closer, something else gets more and more fucky for us."

"Commander, Hackett's fleet is starting to relay into, uh, Geth space I guess." Joker's voice cracked over the speakers over their heads, the smiles from the two soldiers vanishing with it. Around them, the dull hum of chattering officers giving and receiving signals and orders, or just idly chatting with each other, died as well. "Fleet stats are coming in, most of the heavy combat ships are smoking or missing bits, but the Geth are already moving in to make repairs with the Quarians."

"And the transports?" Shepard asked, "Do we have enough manpower?"

"Eighty percent transport survival rating, which was higher than expected really." The pilot reported, adding after a second, "Half the escort fleet is gone, though, and half of what's _left_ is limping in for repairs. Actually, like, heavy combat support will be a bit lacking, but we accounted for that."

"Two days and repairs will be complete based on Geth and Quarian statistics, and reports offered by the reinforcing fleet." EDI added mechanically, pausing for a moment before she added quietly, "Orders from Admiral Hackett state we will not be waiting, however. He has just lodged a request to transfer to the _Normandy_ for command duration while his command ship aids in space-to-ground combat support and assists in defending against Reaper-Geth forces."

"Tell him he's always welcome on the _Normandy_ , and set a yellow status warning ship-wide." Shepard ordered, pushing off the display with one hand and hooking her helmet off her hip with the other, sliding it onto her head and rolling her shoulders comfortably. "XO with me, we're meeting the Admiral. Joker, send the ready alert to the friendly Geth and Quarians, let them know we're moving. EDI, coordinate with the allied forces and plot out landing locations per previous planning routines."

"Aye, Ma'am." EDI responded, adding after a second, "Surviving Coalition forces which are combat capable are being assigned and moving to form up with us. Admiral Hackett says that he will 'come to you', Commander."

"Put out the doilies and fold your covers, grandpa is coming to check your rooms and have dinner. You wouldn't like grandpappy when he's angry over a missing doily." Joker snarked, more for all of the stress than anything else he was sure. A smile in his voicem the pilot added, over the intercom, "Oh, uh, hey Admiral. How are things? Oh, I'm good, just planning a planetary invasion. What, uh, what have you been up to?"

With a chorus of muted, nervous chuckles, the crewmen around them set to work and he turned his gaze on Shepard. With a small nod to him, the woman turned and strode away, towards the conference room. Pausing to give the room a once over and make sure everyone was working as they ought to be, he sighed. And then he turned and made to follow, polarizing his visor as he did so no one could see him scowl anxiously.

He couldn't help it, he had a _bad_ feeling about the fight to come.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"Commander, Lieutenant Commander. It's good to see the both of you." Hackett greeted as they entered the little conference room adjacent to the War Room proper, chuckling at the two very different salutes he got in answer and shaking his head wryly. "At ease, both of you."

"I see you're sliding into your newfound krogan heritage fairly fiercely, Doe." He murmured gently, standing across the table from them with his back to the door, the tired, old man smiled and asked, I'm not uncomfortable with it," he added when the ODST stiffened slightly, "I only mean that I'm glad you're so happy with the role you were given as ambassadorial regent."

"Tuchanka is my home now, in this galaxy." He answered simply, sliding from Krogan salute to Human ease stance in one fluid motion with the man's order. "And Kralt are a family I never really had, Sir. In anything but genetics, I'm Krogan, and carry myself as such."

"He even hides in Engineering like the _other_ Krogans I've had on my teams." Shepard pointed out, smiling when he huffed and turned to glare at her. She smiled behind her helmet and then, as though only now remembering it was there, took it off and set it on the table. Hands on either side of it, she leaned forward and asked, "What's the plan, Admiral? Beyond the basics that were in your message, I mean."

"The basics _are_ the plan, Commander." He grunted simply, explaining even before the woman had grunted her displeasure at the words. He knew her well enough, after all. "Time is becoming a luxury we cannot afford. Until now, the Reapers have had enemies in a million directions. But the Asari are being pressed even with our help, and the Salarians are at breaking. Either falls, and _billions_ of bodies are added to the Reaper's forces."

"Not to mention the ships, industry, supplies, and territories we won't have even tangentially friendly eyes on." John added quietly, giving the woman a look when she gave him one and raising his eyebrows. "The Reapers have been picking at our openings for a while now. It bought us time to get the Coalition together, retake Tuchanka, and kept them spread out enough we've seen success. They knock out those players, though, and that will turn around and gut us."

"You sound familiar with that line of events." Hackett prodded quietly, which earned a small, resigned sigh from the 'Trooper even before the man asked, "Bit of history with this kind of problem, son?"

"The Insurrectionists did the same on several worlds in a system-cluster, picking at our weak points and ignoring us bolstering elsewhere." He explained simply with a small shrug, completely apathetic to the plight of the terrorists. "Once we were entrenched in the cities, though, they couldn't stop us from pushing out with our far larger army and industry. The Reapers are probably aiming along the same sight."

"And they're doing the same thing here." Hackett nodded, sighing tiredly and speaking slowly, like he was forcing himself to recall things he didn't want to remember anymore. "We're facing fierce resistance throughout the Terminus and former Alliance worlds. When we land on them, we find thousands of millions of Husks of every kind waiting. Industry is always stripped down, fields burned or burning, and populations absent or among the aforementioned Husks."

"All of them?" He asked, gritting his teeth against the grim news and adding, "What about frontier worlds? Military bases? Space stations?"

"There are survivors and stashes, rest assured. Isolated towns, small mining foundries, military outposts far and away from cities that had time to hide from the Reaper forces when they landed." And the brains, though Hackett didn't mention that with the whole 'fallen heroes' thing that the Coalition had going. Instead, he moved on, "We need another win here, Commander. Not a trade. And the Free-Geth offered us some actionable information on where the Reaper Code seems to be originating, and is the most powerful. A heavy, fortified base that the Reaper-Geth have been reinforcing nonstop since the battle for Rannoch began."

"It'll be like charging headlong into hell itself, then." Shepard nodded, smiling viciously and giving her XO a look over her shoulder. "Which puts it right up our alley, doesn't it, Doe?"

"Feet first into hell, Ma'am." He nodded, giving Hackett a look and nodding again. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he turned his neck until it popped and asked quietly, "Landing strategy, Sir? I'm assuming we don't want a protected ground war to get to it, and that they aren't lacking in anti-air."

"No, that they are certainly not." The Admiral shook his head, and then drew a small disk from inside a uniform pocket. Smooth, blue and clearly Geth, the two soldier's eyes narrowed on it as the man laid it on the table. With a press of a button on his 'Tool, the little thing buzzed to life in a rather basic holographic display of a massive fortress. "This is the information the Free-Geth managed to salvage from captured memory banks or had on hand when they defected."

"The fortress is a circle about a mile and a half wide and half that tall, with unknown subterranean sections. Some Quarians suggested this," the map highlighted a massive, smooth circular section in the depressed center of the base, "is some form of drydock or missile bank. Either way, employing capital ships against the base would be dangerous, as Geth ships could launch inside our formations or missiles could rip us apart at only moderate ranges."

"In-atmosphere like that, they could really only have frigates or light cruisers easily. Maybe light carriers, too, with emphasis on the _light_ part." Shepard pointed out, tutting quietly and shaking her head, "But at that range, they would all cut apart any ships supporting in low orbit. Not to mention our ground forces."

"Each of the towers is host to a number of sensor types, including visual and electromagnetic detection suites, as well." He went on, the four towering spires on each cardinal axis highlighting with his words. "Our Geth friends didn't have details on their air-defense weapons, but we've seen some of them already. And we know their effectiveness. Nothing is landing near enough to the base to _avoid_ a ground war, even the _Normandy_."

"Instead, we brought along something special for the occasion." Hackett grunted, giving the ODST a look and smiling thinly, like a man offering someone something they believed they would like but couldn't be certain of yet. "They aren't built the same way as yours was, but hopefully, they'll do well enough to satisfy you and the current situation."

"Sir?" John asked in confusion, watching him collect the little Geth disk and return it to his pocket, replacing it with a blockier and clearly Alliance one. Now, when another hologram flickered to life, it showed one of an ovular life-pod like thing with stubby little wings to either side of a thick glass panel. Blinking, he leaned against the table and murmured, "Is that what I think it is…?"

"A Coalition design, freshly tested and implemented on a limited scale among the Krogan population exclusively." He answered, gesturing with a hand at it. "The Krogan Special Infantry Insertion pod, or the KSI Pod, does the same as your Soeiv pod did. It's based on it. The only change is a larger pod for larger frames, and a slight piloting system tied into the wings."

"No thrust packs?"

"We wanted to avoid thermal signatures wherever possible." He explained as an answer, pointing a long, old finger at the stubby little wings. "Those can turn the craft with little to no detectable signature for the Reapers, or Geth in this case, to lock onto. Which reduces casualties on entry maneuvers theoretically and, in the few deployments we've faced, that has saved us some specialist manpower."

"Impressive." He didn't know if the SOEIV line had thought about it. But given they didn't face the same constant passive/active scans like what the Reapers were capable of and _physical sight_ was more of their concern, he understood why they wouldn't have. "Ready for deployment here?"

"We have three of them, and a basic primer." Hackett nodded, giving Shepard a look and then grimacing before returning his gaze to the now wary ODST. "Excluding the Commander, I need you to pick two allies to accompany you. It'll be a hard fight, we;re dropping you right beside the base and masking you with a ship's debris field."

"You're sacrificing a ship?" Shepard asked quietly, "And why can't I accompany him?"

"The ship in question is heavily damaged already, and would be scrapped once we got here either way. Instead, we're making it appear more functional and crewing it with Rachni drones along for the purpose." He answered simply, smiling grimly at the prospect of losing even one ship. Industry was at a premium as always, and wasting even one ship's materials was a loss that had to be considered. "The ship will be placed at the head of our assault formation, and will doubtless be destroyed immediately in the first volley of Geth fire. The pods will be launched by a carrier behind it, and thus be disguised as scattering detritus by the ship's destruction."

"You, Commander, won't be on the drop because we need the Geth to believe your forces are leading a ground assault against the base's outlying defensive posts." Hackett went on, before either could interrupt. "Doing that, we'll be able to divert forces in orbit away to the fleet engagement, and on the ground to face your engagement. _Both_ will happen in cascading order, so you don't have to face the full fleet. Once all are under way, we estimate the insertion pods will be arriving, allowing the Lieutenant Commander to proceed with Operation Achilles Heel."

"Your pod, Doe, will be fitted with an explosive tactical warhead that you will escort to as close to the center of the base as you can, to blast open those doors and allow for a bombing barrage." He went on, removing the second holo-displayer and folding his hands behind his waist authoritatively. "You will then exfiltrate by whatever means you find most acceptable. Legion, who will be on a mission alongside yours, will be tasked with finding transport for that purpose but if he should fail you will need to procure your own and remote signal the weapon to fire. If for some reason the remote signal _fails_ , then the timer will be what we rely on. It will be set to three hours from your launch, so that should provide plenty of time without overly taxing our ground forces."

"We pull this off, and we'll win this war in a single day." Hackett finished simply, smiling that vicious kind of smile that only an ancient military man could pull off without looking like some kind of villain. "And with the manpower and naval power here, in Rannoch, we can start biting into the Reaper's backs. Hit them in the rear and retake some territories, to bolster us even more."

"John?" Shepard asked, giving him a sidelong look, "You good with this?"

"I am, Ma'am." And even if he wasn't, he'd do it anyway. He had a job to do, after all. "Assault team would best be Vega and Vakarian, Sir. Both are good at mid-range and close, and Vakarian will help us against any marksmen."

"Get them geared and report to the _Everest_ , Doe." Hackett ordered simply, explaining in one fell swoop why the Admiral's ship had stayed attached to theirs for so much longer than normal. "The operation begins immediately, and you need to get over there so we can make our fleet formation."

"Yes, Sir." He grunted, slamming a fist into his breast and moving to leave.

"Hold up, Doe." He turned and felt Shepard slam into him, crushing him in a right hug that had him groaning from the force. Pulling away, she gave his helmet a pat and smiled, "See you on the other side, Rook. And happy hunting out there."

"Happy hunting, Commander." He nodded, turning and leaving.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

The three pods weren't hanging pods like he'd originally assumed, and like what the United Nations Space Command vessels used, letting the black pods dangle over open space and dropping them. Instead, they were onto the top of what he could only describe as a large rod affixed to the back of where normally, torpedo bays would have been. Instead, the tubes had been widened and fitted with full airlock systems to allow them to be shot _forward_ rather than dropped _down_. With the little wings folded back against the sides of the pods, they rather looked like torpedos too, minus the dark black glass front on each of them.

Also unlike the ODST pods, these were blue rather than black, owing to the Alliance ship and crew that maintained them. The Alliance symbol had been painted on each as well, in dull silver instead of white to better hide. On the middle one, though, were three dim, red and jagged claw marks with paint trailing down the sides.

"Your handiwork?" He didn't turn to the flanging voice and instead turned away, grunting an affirmation and returning the 'borrowed' can to where he'd gotten it. "Looks good. Taking to your Krogan roots, eh?"

"I am, yeah." He nodded, taking a breath and picking his old, worn M7 up off a low table to check its sights. Satisfied, he slotted it into place on his thigh beside his new, somewhat fancier and internally significantly upgraded Phalanx. "The UNSC was pretty militaristic, too, so that might be why I fit in so well with the Krogan."

"Turians are militaristic, too." The alien soldier pointed out, habitually collapsing and unfolding his grey Phaeston while he idled and they waited for the go order.

"Hm, they are, yeah." They were, really, but he already knew why he hadn't aligned to them. "Krogan got to me first, though. And the Turians don't have the same history of attempted genocide for me to relate to."

"Fair enough, yeah. Just hope I'm ready for this particular level of crazy..." Garrus shrugged, turning to Vega sitting on a crate beside him and asking, "What about you, Vega? You up for falling onto a planet in a small car?"

"Time to rock n' roll, and that's the fastest way down." The man shrugged, pulling on his heavy, plated helmet and rolling his head. His words proved prophetic, then, as green lights turned to red and a voice chimed gently, telling them it was time to board and prepare for launch. Standing, the man took a deep breath and asked, "Rook, any suggestions on how to deal with this? Never done anything like it, ya know, obviously."

"Don't grit your teeth, count to seven and then multiple that by two and count to that, keep that pattern up, and make sure you have ammo." He grunted, pausing as the ship shuddered violently and sighed, moving around towards the ladder that led up into his pod and talking over his shoulder, "Battle's started already, we need to drop. Now. And Vega?"

"Y-Yeah?" The man responded, already clambering into his own pod.

"Try to aim for something soft." He smiled, standing in the open hatch of his pod and giving the man a look. "You don't want to hit a hunk of granite or something and smear across the ground."

The man's response was lost in the pneumatic hiss of his hatch closing, while the 'Trooper strapped himself down and clicked his M7 home in a weapon holster to his side. He could see on two of the four monitors arrayed evenly on the hatch in front of him that his fellows were twitching, anxious and nervous.

"Deep breaths, and run the counting exercise I told you to use." He chided gently, catching both their attentions and ceasing their twitching if only for the moment. After a moment, he started for them, "One, Sir! Two, Sir! Three, Sir! Vega, louder, I can't hear you over the pneumatics and that means you aren't talking in your chest."

"Four, Sir!" The man finally grunted, loud enough to be heard over the hissing pneumatics moving their pods to a shuddering rest in the launching berths. As the hatch closed behind them, the Green Panic, as his drill sergeant had called it, started creeping into the man's voice. "Five, Sir! Six, Sir- Santo puta mierda por qué estoy haciendo esto? Maria salvame! Ohhhh!"

"Brace for launch!" He called warningly, watching his fellows on the display and grimacing, "And keep fucking counting, Vega! Vakarian, how are you holding up?"

"Fine enough." The Turian answered shakily, rolling his shoulders in what he had learned was a nervous display left over from their evolution. Limbering up before fighting whatever he was afraid of, or so he'd read. "Just waiting it out, I guess."

Then, with a muted _whump_ , they were launched forward at at least forty miles an hour, and all he saw was black. _The_ black, in fact, until a Quarian ship lumbered into view high above them, firing mass accelerators and torpedoes while its GARDIAN systems tried to defend it from the same. A missile slammed home and a section of the ship tore free, sparking and venting fire, atmosphere and crew into the cold blackness of space. Then they lost track of that, too, in the debris field of their cover ship. And from there, all there was left to do was wait, count, and hope not to be hit by straw fire from either side fighting around them.

And for the first time since leaving Tuchanka, he felt comfortable, and in his element in a way few would ever understand.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Zeus 501 :**_

 **He actually does use it, but only in specific instances where it is better than his Harrier. I gave him the Harrier because not only does it have a higher impact - mass is lower, but the effect of the speed of the propellant means that ME weapons hit harder - but functions better at extended ranges. His M7S, however, functions better at closer ranges, where the rapid fire, semi-armor-piercing rounds can rip and tear more freely and accurately.**

 **It just depends on what he will be** _ **doing**_ **on a mission.**

 _ **Enji Benjy :**_

 **They aren't** _ **exclusively**_ **Krogan, but it's a Krogan program in the sense of their arms of the military pushed the idea and they had the, er, disposable manpower - Uncured Krogan are mad like that, I dunno if you've noticed - to test the ideas and technology on. As depicted here, it has been rolled out in a limited extent to other military units, but it's a new thing still.**


	35. The Drop - Part II

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

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"Armor forward! Cover Third Dirk's withdrawal and prepare to push!" Shepard commanded, running up a steep hill and leaping atop a trundling Mako as the tanks responded to her orders and moved into a covering position.

In front of her, the turret's heavy machine gun blared deadly furrows through the hill ahead, ripping apart Geth as it approached, and she took cover behind it. Her own rifle joined it wherever she saw a need, sending short bursts into withdrawing or pursuing Geth, as well as any that were hefting the rockets typical of Rocket Troopers.

Ahead of her, the arid ground had been churned by heavy munitions from both sides, and then filled with smoldering hulks of armored Geth Colossus and Prime units, alongside their own Mako frames that had led the vanguard. Lesser Geth units of a whole smattering of types filled the space as well, some crawling for safety or to get last attacks in at their forces. They were matched by Coalition units, dead or dying and in some cases dragging their fellows back all along the massive battle line.

Behind her, dozens of Makos formed up for another charge, lightly crewed and surrounded only by Krogan and Rachnic assault units and those of other species who had volunteered to make a showing here. Not to mention the medical corpsmen from the Alliance, their big red stripes on their blue armor standing out as wounded were hauled back beyond the next assault line, or their combat medics moved into position behind the assault line, ready to charge in with them and help whoever needed it.

"We hold any longer and that corvette will start hitting us." One of the innumerable officers rattled in her ear, "We need to launch the next assault."

"I know, damn it, but we're still withdrawing Third Dirk." She murmured angrily, snapping her rifle to the side and cutting down a silver Trooper a hundred feet off as it crested a small hill, rocket on its shoulder. It fell back and she stood, resting a foot atop the tank's turret and striking as inspiring a pose as possible, pointing ahead of them like a general in a painting of old, "Fourth Dirk! Advance! Medical corps, push out and withdraw with any wounded stranded out there!"

With a jerk that almost destabilized her, the Mako lurched forward and she stepped back, letting the gunner had full freedom of movement while she knelt in the weak cover it offered. In formation, such as it was, the Coalition army rolled forward in a tide of metal and men. The Geth responded in answer, and rounds rattled off massive lumbering war machines and infantry on both sides. Kneeling atop the Mako, she provided fire support as it went, one hand gripping a handle on the side and other holding her Avenger, blaring semi-accurate fire at any Geth she saw. With a mighty roar, the Mako's engines gunned and it surged up a hill in front of them, the woman hanging on for dear life all the while.

Then, it suddenly and violently _flipped_ , and she was forced to let go and allow herself to turn head over heels through the air. It landed on its top and she landed on her bag, sliding in the sparse, grainy dirt of the little cleft between the two large slopes of the arid region. Between them, the Reaper Brute reared up, punching into the soft belly of the Mako and wrenching it open, like a can opener working at the lid of a snack. A few cracks echoed as the pilot fired his sidearm, but the Brute didn't care, wrenching its arm again before she could get back on her feet and draw her own, heavier sidearm.

It roared in pain as the heavy, armor piercing rounds punched into the base of its Turian spine. The little span of bone and circuitry snapped as a well-placed round hit home, and the roar died in an electrified, desperate and keening whine before, finally, the creature sagged atop the belly of the _thoroughly_ ruined Mako.

Turning at the sound of feet, she swore as a Husk leapt on her, dragging her down to try and maul her. With the ease of years of skill and training, and her extensive cybernetics, she turned the fall into a roll and punched a fist down and through its hissing mouth. Wrenching the skull free with a dull pop, she rose and turned, sending precision rounds into the throats of another four Husks as they loped towards her and then turning her heavy pistol on a Geth Trooper when her shields began to spark.

Retrieving her fallen Avenger, she sank to a knee and watched the top of the hill, sending off bursts that threw the few Geth that made to advance back. More and more, Husks and Cannibals replaced them and surged forward, but her rifle served well enough to cut _them_ down too. Then, a shrieking Banshee mounted the hill, hand held out to ward off her rifle fire, and she swore under her breath.

But the harsh _bark_ of a Mako cannon made short work of it, though, annihilating everything above the former Asari's waist as the rear echelon of Dirk Four surged past her, cutting down the surprising Reaper infantry and pushing on. Soldiers, wounded for the surprise of a wholly different enemy rushing into them or simply unlucky, lay in the cleft atop fallen enemies or each other, or were dragged back by the medical corps.

"We have confirmed Reaper forces." She snarled into her helmet communicator as she trudged up the hill, kneeling behind it in safety and asking, "I thought that the Quarian and Free-Geth kept all the Reaper transports from reaching Rannoch?"

"They were!" Tali answered quickly, acting as her liaison while the more 'entrenched' Admirals conducted combat operations across the theatre. "There wasn't a single Reaper ship that was allowed to land on Rannoch. None whatsoever."

"Then where did the Reaper infantry come… From…" She blinked as a thought occurred and her blood cooled, asking quietly, "Tali, ask the Geth if the Reaper that made contact _left_ the system after the Geth joined the Reapers."

"Wait one." 'One' in this instance lasted quite a while. Long enough for the undead N7 to empty two clips into the Geth and Reaper defenders ahead. The latter of which had swiftly, to an odd extent, thinned into apparent nonexistence now.

Why was explained when Tali came back, as the next Dirk unit cycled to the front of the queue.

"I got word back from the Geth on our side, delayed due to the conflict in space." Tali finally answered quietly, the tone in her voice enough to make the N7 anxious. "They stated that a Sovereign class Reaper made landfall and contacted the Geth. Then provided them with the Code to broadcast. But they don't have record of it _leaving_. And if it never left..."

"Then the Reaper is hiding, and with Reaper forces here, it's hiding _here_. And we can't contact John or the Geth will go running for him… You have to be shitting me." Shepard finished, standing and looking up as the streaks of debris rained down on the other side of the Geth base. Debris and, she knew mixed in among it and not expecting a thing about what was in there, her team. "Fuck me, nothing goes to plan, does it?"

As if to punctuate an answer for her, a heavy round punched into her chest and pitched her back, stumbling down the hill while her barrier sparked and her breastplate smoldered. Satisfied it wasn't a puncture and her kinetic barrier was recovering, she grit her teeth and moved on. John could handle a little Reaper in his way and, if he couldn't, her standing around gaping like a fish wouldn't help him if a Reaper really was there.

Shooting some robots and making noise, though, _very_ definitely would.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"We're past the main combat zones, on final planetary approach. Prepare to deploy stabilisers on my mark." He ordered as the shuttle shuddered gently, a telltale sign of them hitting the dregs of the upper atmosphere. Something he'd been thoroughly trained to recognize in Shock trooper training, the gentle but subtle tell of when to deploy atmospheric entry measures. Reaching out, he flicked a toggle on his own pod and grunted a simple, "Mark."

With a dull, metallic click and a stronger tremor, nearly hidden by the atmospheric eddies, the steering fins jutted out to either side. Beside him, between the lock-point for his submachine gun and his thigh, a small joystick clicked out, lit in a bright blue to signal its appearance. Wrapping his hand around it he gently tested the controls, steering side to side in the brief minutes he had before such would be dangerous.

"Controls are sensitive." He remarked dryly, looking to the faces of his team, one pinched and fear filled with wide eyes and the other, well, _Turian_. "Vakarian, link your flight path to mine. Vega, calm down and take a breath, and do the same. Or you will die."

"Oh, gee, thanks, _loco bastardo._ " The man grunted, teeth grit but somehow able to piece the words together in spite of the fact. He saw the man's shoulder shift and registered his shuttle wobbling slightly as he assumed control, "Oh, no me gusta esto en absoluto. Pedazo de mierda se siente como si se derrumbara sobre mí… "Whose idea was this?"

"The Krogan." Garrus answered amusedly, adding, "And Hackett's, I think."

"Damn crazy enough for me to believe that…"

"For which one?" Garrus asked quietly, distracted with the pod's controls, steadily lining himself up in a wide wedge like the ODST had ordered. More shakily, Vega's joined them in their sporadic formation, and the Turian added, "Cuz it was the Krogan's design and Hackett's plan, and they can't _both_ be crazy."

"I have a hundred miles of dumbass ideas to show that isn't the case!"

"Check the chatter." He grunted, interrupting the banter as the turbulence began to pick up. "Radio silence until we hit the ground, unless you're about to spin out. And if you're going to wipe, do it away from us, Vega."

"First off, why are you assuming it'd be _me_ wipin' out?" The hispanic soldier grunted, face fixed on the viewscreen below and between his feet, already reddened with fire as the atmosphere tried in vain to burn them to nothingness. "Second, uh, how likely is wipin' out, anyway? The primer didn't say- Oh maldito infierno!"

"Heavy turbulence, thick atmosphere! Keep true or you'll melt up, or worse, go off course!" He explained by way of warning, hand gripping his control like his life depended on it. Which was very much the case, the ODST fighting every second just to keep the craft falling straight. "We're on target. Match with me, and we'll stay on course!"

The next few minutes felt like a lifetime, and were nothing but the roar of the atmosphere battering their hulls, Spanish swearing and prayers so intermingled that John would _swear_ there wasn't a period, and gritted teeth. Finally, the turbulence began to die down, and the fires around the pods died. Instead they were replaced by sheer wind and hail, buffeting them harshly and rapidly cooling the hulls of their shuttles. Metal and glass groaned in protest, and he felt the tremors of the metal's distress.

But luckily, nothing broke free, and their descent continued through the high rainclouds in high speed and relative safety.

At last, they broke free, and high above the sprawling Geth base, they finally got a look at where they were headed in true detail. The base itself was deceptively simple and clear Geth design for it, with sleek roofs and bulbous towers. With a nod, he was glad to confirm the features that the Geth-given holographic blueprints had detailed, and relaxed that minute, infinitesimal amount he always did when information was validated.

"Look there." Garrus grunted shortly, "You can see the battle."

It was true, he found, when he leaned up against the strength of his safety straps and peered out of one of the windows. A low-looming Geth corvette hovered, bulbous and stomach churningly similar to the Covenant's favorite maneuver of parking their ships and lancing the ground wherever resistance was fiercest. Beyond it he could discern a cloud of dust, kicked up by countless soldiers and machines on either side, spread along the horizon for half a dozen miles.

"We'll make it count." John promised his team and, beyond them, the soldiers fighting and dying out on the battlefield. "They're buying us the chance, and we'll make damn sure the cost is paid back in full."

"Aye." Vega offered gently, "God willing."

"By the Spirits it is so."

"Brace for impact in less than one hundred and eighty second." He warned once that had all been said, the trio leaning back and the pods automatically tightening their restraints. Around them, the debris that had survived the trip rolled and roiled, turning and smoldering as it fell towards the distant earth of rannoch. "Adjust up by two degrees, put us down opposite the base."

With the battle raging on one flank, they would land on the other. And hopefully, the Geth would be paying more attention to the opposite side, allowing them to infiltrate safely. As they neared, he could even see the disparate artillery fire raining down on the far side of the Geth base. Not to mention the returning fire from the Geth artillery and anti-air pieces as well, of course, the latter more than able to devastate ground formations if a burst shell hit home.

"Landing in ten. Brace, brace, brace." He warned as his world and theirs was engulfed by the thin trees a mile out from the base. Further than hoped for, but close enough to work with. "Don't grit your teeth!"

With a thunderous roar of breaking wood and churned dirt, he slammed home and snapped forward against his harness. The force was painful, aggravating old wounds, but survivable. And as the shuttle settled, he rolled his shoulders and sighed, looking up at the grey and blue sky above and asking, "Status?"

"Got a headache that would make a damn Krogan wince." Vega grunted simply, coughing through the bruised ribs and rising bile so many ODSTs suffered when they popped their orbital cherry, as his drill sergeant had said. Like a soldier, he collected himself well, though, and reported more cleanly, "I see the sky, and nothin' is broken."

"All I see is brown, and green in the peripherals." The Turian of their party reported, sounding afraid in a way unique to the old rogue. "I… I think I'm upside down. I'm going to try and pop the hatch, see if I can right it."

"Roger that." He nodded, reaching down and grabbing his sidearm before starting the process of popping his hatch. "Vega, pop yours too. Vakarian, we'll come to you."

With a muted, metal and pneumatic _chunk_ , his hatch bounded up and through the air. It crunched home against a tree and he rose, one hand behind him and propping him up as he did so, poking his head above the rim of the pod and sliding his sidearm along the rim of it. Satisfied he was alone, he slid into a crouch and holstered it, drawing his submachine gun and yanking the stock to full.

Standing, he locked the bomb onto his waist and stepped up on the rim, and then dropped on the other side, sliding with his momentum into a kneeling position on the pod's side. With his M7 and his VISR alike, he scanned the sparse, green trees for _anything_ out of the ordinary. Or, well, in the ordinary for a Geth controlled region he supposed on second thought, but not one that was particularly friendly to him. Satisfied again, he checked his HUD and turned, headed towards the distant, unmoving marker that was Garrus' landing spot.

Less than three minutes passed before he found the pod, nestled upside down between two great, thick trees. A limb had fallen on the back with the pod's violent entry, but it was not something that would be a problem for him, let alone Vega. Beneath the pod, he could see the front of it laying with a few inches of opening between the rim of the pod and the ground. The hatch, at least, hadn't been damaged and unable to be opened.

Small miracles, he supposed.

"There's always one…" He murmured despondently, looking it and shaking his head sadly. Then, he heard a muted crack in the forest off to his side and rounded on it, M7 snapping up, on instinct. The same instinct that had him hold his fire and bark a short, harsh demand of, "Blue?"

"Blue!" Vega responded as he stepped out of the woods, giving a nod of his heavily armored head and lowering his rifle. Quietly, he gave another small nod towards the pod and asked, "What's the plan for this? Primer didn't say."

"Hm." No, it probably wouldn't have. He hadn't been directly consulted in making it, and he doubted they'd had enough experiences with the insertions to know that it could be a problem. And frankly, a Krogan could probably roll it over himself. "We have to flip it. You on one side, me on the other, and Garrus pushing. Failing to flip it, he can climb under it."

"Roger." The soldier nodded, "You hear that, birdman? Get ready for the ole' leg day."

Together, the two soldiers moved around to either of the two trees and knelt, weapons in the grass behind them. At the count of ten, the three of them pulled as hard as they could manage, lifting the metal pod unevenly off the ground and eventually grinding to a halt. Seeing the problem for what it was, the Turian was swift to chuck his weapons out from under the pod and then crawl himself.

"Clear." He finally grunted simply, collecting his weapons and standing as the pod clanged mutedly into the dirt behind him. Checking the sights on his Phaeston, the Turian asked, "So, what are we waiting for? We have a job to do."

Together and in a wide wedge, the small team turned and headed towards the Geth base. It didn't take very long for the Geth fortification to appear through the treeline, or for them to reach that treeline and kneel to look for their way in. The Geth were smart enough to keep even the incredibly sparse, arid forest bordering the fortification trimmed back and away. Nearly a mile away, in fact, with open ground that rolled gently, covered in short grass and the occasional bunches of sparse shrubs.

"But not a Geth to be seen." He murmured, kneeling and pinging his VISR on a dozen spectrums and looking for anything. "A dozen spectrum sweeps are showing nothing for a hundred feet in any direction."

"Maybe motion triggered sensors?" Vega asked, kneeling beside him and gesturing at a few ideal spots they could be placed. While the ODST pinged warily, the man explained as quickly as he could, "Alliance uses 'em, so I figured the Geth might too. You step near and they register it, ping a signal back."

"I'm getting nothing on signal spectrums, and we don't have time to wait either way." He grunted simply, half rising and moving out into the open in as small and low a form as he could manage. "Get moving. Spread wedge formation, with Vakarian hanging further back in a marksman and spotting role."

"Sir." The two soldiers clipped, moving into formation as they marched out and into the open.

From there, they were entirely silent, aside from crunching soil and grass and the shifting of their armor. The mile took half an hour to cross, but they weren't harassed the entire way, be it by traps, waiting or patrolling Geth, or units responding to their presence from the base. Distantly, he could hear the faint echoes of artillery and heavy guns firing, but nothing small arms. Nothing _close to them_.

"Targets, one hundred feet, front." Garrus murmured in his ear as they moved along the base of the wall, searching for an entry point. In the distance was a simple gateway, no more than an unadorned hole in the wall, with two simple geth troopers standing outside. "I'm circling to the right, along a small incline, to see if they have backup. Probably a sentry patrol."

Kneeling and leaning against the cold metal of the wall with Vega just behind him when he spotted one of the Geth. In the distance, far enough he could barely discern it, he could see a faint light. The kind a geth head had installed where its face ought to have been. It flicked off after a second, and he saw the pale blue of the machine's back as it turned to look the other way. It was definitely a sentry, then, like Garrus had said.

Which meant that they would be the start of their heavy lifting, and the assault on the base proper. What would happen then, he wasn't sure. But he had a feeling he could guess, and tightened his grip on his M7 at the familiar and foreboding threat. Nature of the job, though, so...

"Vega, we rush as soon as we hear the rifle shot. Vakarian, support from there and hold that point in case we need to retreat to rally." He finally ordered, set with a plan in mind, "Make your move when able, Vakarian. We get inside and find somewhere to plant this bomb immediately and then exfiltrate."

"Roger."

"Aye, Sir."

Almost a minute and a half passed, the two Humans pressed against the bare wall and hoping against all logic not to be seen. The Geth never moved though, the collective probably focused on the battle elsewhere and minimal programs devoted to securing the rear they no doubt considered secure what with the zero tracked concerns on this side and the _army_ on the other. Like their overall lack of windows and thus lack visual confirmations, the Geth were predictable enough to almost certainly have their forces, sensors and literally collective attention on the clear and present danger.

"In position, and taking the shots." Garrus warned a split second before the first rifle sound cracked the air and the Geth John had been watching was rendered particularly headless. Flailing and seizing, the machine fell as another rifle sound cracked, this one ending the machine they couldn't see. Two more cracks echoed and the Turian offered, in a clipped tone, "Backup is down. Go now, I'm falling back to the forest for cover."

Together he and the Hispanic soldier advanced, low but fast, through the empty, unadorned entryway they'd found. A Trooper appeared at the corner as they did, but twin bursts from each of their weapons cut it down easily and they stepped through and out, into the great open area that dominated the center of the base. Each took one side and moved away, towards the low railing that circled the low, silver pit at the base, and knelt in the relative cover terminals there offered.

"Find a good place to plant the bomb." Vega grunted simply, adding close to needlessly, "We need to get out of here. Before the Geth can send anything bigger than the lil' blues, hopefully."

"Roger." He grunted, turning and half rising to find a good place to tuck the nuke away where it wouldn't be seen.

It was in the base, so the blast would ruin everything in the bowl and the electromagnetics would fry whatever was left. So the location didn't _really_ matter, as long as it wasn't found while they exfiltrated. And a promising candidate was easily spotted inside a few seconds of looking, a few feet away and behind a terminal with gnarling pipes crawling up just behind it and over, before scaling the inside of the wall up and away out of sight. It was perfect, and he wasn't afraid to consider how well this was going.

Finally, a plan was going to, well, _plan_.

"Found a spot." He grunted shortly, standing and jogging towards it. "Planting the bomb now. Prepare to exfiltrate."

Laid across the terminal, he gingerly slid the bulk warhead into a safe enough place, under the piping and tucked out of sight. Satisfied, he pushed off and dropped back down as rifle rounds cracked behind him. When he turned, a quartet of Geth were sparking and seizing on the ground, and Vega was reloading his rifle as the ODST approached him. At a nod from the smaller man, they returned the way they'd come, moving out through the open field at speed.

"Ride's here." Garrus grunted when they reached him, the duo fast marching through the woods with Garrus leading the way.

A short ride in a pilfered Geth tank later, they were trundling up a hill and onto a plateau, finally staggering to a stop at a safe range. Standing atop it, the ODST took the honor of setting it off, and inside a moment the vast majority of the base was _erased_. Smoke, dust and debris climbed for miles above it and, a moment later, a shockwave slammed into them that had them bracing against it for the long second that it took for it to pass.

Once it was gone, he raised his hand to his ear and smiled, "This is Lieutenant COmmander Doe, reporting mission success and breaking radio silence protocol. The base is destroyed, awaiting-"

Distantly, a massive and dull metal _thrum_ echoed out, along with a basey roar that was washed with electronics. As if spawned from the dissipating smoke itself, a great, dark violet leg spindled up out of the ground and punched into the earth. Then three more, as their owner was hauled out and stood high, screeching a roar of defiance and rage.

"You have gotta be kidding me…" Vega murmured beside him as the Reaper lumbered out of the smoke, smoldering and damaged but very clearly alive. "There was an actual god damn Reaper down there!"

"John!" Shepard's voice crackled, weak and static filled, in his helmet. "John, get to cover _now_. I repeat, get to cover now. The operation is… scrubbed. Do you hear me? Are you receiving past the Reaper's jamming?

As if in answer, the machine lashed out, lancing a long beam of angry red energy across the forest. The woods exploded in shattered wood, upturned earth, and fire. Lots and lots of fire. Then it turned, and fired again, lancing up the face of their plateau and carving through stone and soil both, the shot exploding as it carved past them faster than any of them could react, and hurled the four of them bodily away. His helmeted head cracked against stone and he groaned, sight fading swiftly as the sky darkened.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"There's a Reaper on the ground! All forces, scatter and retreat. Disregard evacuation points and rally points, just run." Shepard snarled, turning and sprinting away from the battle line. Around her, men and women obeyed, abandoning the fight whole-sale and turning to flee. Puffing between breaths, she reached out to the command channel and demanded, "What now?"

"We have assets in place and are beginning a bombardment." The Admiral of the Heavy Fleet answered, "The Patrol Fleet and your own forces won't be able to hold for long, so I need to know when you are clear-"

"Open fire!" She answered, not much caring if they were properly clear or not. "The Reaper is carving up terrain like a damn- Agh!"

She was cut off as a strike of red energy spiked out, carving through the gentle hills of the area and sending men, women and armor flying. Herself among them, pitched through the air by an aftershock of the blast and landing atop a tank that itself managed to land wheels down. Smoking and tilted to one side for damage, the Mako hurtled on, smacking aside a Krogan as it went and she held on for dear life.

"Fuckin'- Bombard the target." She grunted, bouncing as the Mako trundled and nearly losing her Avenger before she could return it to its place on her back. "It's ripping the assault force apart!"

"Firing a saturation barrage to buy you time, Commander." Han'Gerrel answered quietly, voice laced with something she couldn't place in her state. Grief, maybe. Or resignation.

Regardless, the distant _boom_ of heavy mass accelerator rounds punching through the planet's atmosphere cut off her curiosity. She turned, arm stretched up past her head awkwardly and magboots hooking her legs upright on the Mako roof like she was posturing for a partner, to watch them slam home. A hundred macro-rounds punched down from space, half slamming into the ground and hurling dust and debris skyward around the great machine.

Half, though, slammed into the machine itself. It flinched and heaved, recoiling with each heavy blow and chattering in fury. It didn't fall, though, instead looking skyward and lancing indiscriminately with its heavy laser. Another salvo answered, but did as well as the last, the machine trundling to the side and firing into the heavens.

"Damn it!" The Admiral spoke again, "We've lost three of our line ships up here! Are our rounds having any effect, Commander?"

"You're a great distraction!" She answered sarcastically, letting herself fall off the Mako as it made its flaccid escape. Kneeling atop a hill while soldiers rushed away in all directions _not_ towards a giant death robot, she scowled, "Other than that? No. Just pissed it off."

"Damn it…" The alien sighed, then, and spoke quietly, "Commander, I… I have a plan. I'm ordering my ship evacuated and the outer sections of it vented of all atmosphere and then sealed."

"Admiral, are you doing what I think you are?" She asked, feeling guilt spike at the memories of her questioning his loyalty in the face of that information. "Because that would be remarkably stupid."

"Maybe, but it's already done. We lack the firepower, but I have the mass. Admiral Han'Gerrel, cutting off communications." After a moment of silence, he added a quiet, reverent, "Keelah Se'Lai, Commander. For the Home World and the Migrant Fleet."

A couple minutes passed before she saw his plan unfold, the Admiral's personal commandship flying down from orbit at high speeds. It slammed into the Reaper in spite of the angry red blasts that carved through it and, together, they were forced into the ground and a fraction of the speed of light. Together, the two detonated in a flash of violet fire, and a shockwave that nearly pitched her off her feet.

Instead, she simply sighed and waited it out, before pressing a hand to her ear and asking, "Legion, status on Operation Reboot? Were your system projections correct?"

"Personality and data dissemination occuring now, Shepard Commander. Predictions all proved accurately. We are… _I_ am sorry." The machine answered simply, voice sad and yet content in a way she could barely explain. "I will not be joining you in returning to Earth. Your allies, however, are mostly unharmed. Broadcasting location now."

"Understood." She sighed, swearing again at the loss of another friend. Raising a hand to her ear, she spoke cleanly, "Coalition Forces, the Geth are free. Move into defensive formations. Quarians, do so as well, we will not assist you should you attack the Geth Fleets. This war is over."

And as always, with high casualties. She sighed and gave the burning ruins of the Quarian command ship a last look and then a salute, before turning and limping away on a sore leg, following her fellows and awaiting new instruction.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **So I had some problems finishing this chapter mostly due to weather in my area and finishing the RWBY fangame that is up now for people that wanna see, and me trying to pace it properly. Hope you all enjoy, and apologies for any awkwardness. These are the planned events, I just had problems putting the events to paper.**_

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **SD Phantom :**_

 **Glad you enjoyed it! I tried to sprinkle action into this but maintain another tension, that being the Reaper's being there. Also yeah, I love the platonic affection between the two that has grown out in this story.**

 _ **Glint Armor :**_

 **Google Translate is your friend!**

 _ **Species Unknown :**_

 **Planetary Boarding Torpedoes is a good summary, honestly. XD**


	36. Reassignment

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

_**Official Supporters:**_

 _ **Grand Priestess,**_ **Luna Haile.**

 _ **High Priests,**_ **Alvelvnor, Gage.**

 _ **Priests,**_ **The Impossible Muffin** _ **,**_ **Xager the Chaos King.**

 _ **Adeptus,**_ **Private Wilger**

 _ **Ze Nope Rope,**_ **Kaiser Snek, Snekiest Snek**

 _ **Acolytes,**_ **DigiDemonLord** _ **,**_ **Stonecold, Cheeseberry**

 _ **Initiates,**_ **Greg Gibson, Espa Cole** _ ****_

 _ **If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our private server for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, please leave me a comment to let me know if you did, or where I can improve. Link here, where able to be seen :**_ _ **/2UZncAm**_

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 _ **I have a kofi account now, too, under this name for those interested.**_

 _ **Beta :**_

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"With Legion's upgrades, each platform is capable of being fully and totally controlled by an individual Geth program, unlike the old system where dozens were needed for menial tasks." Shepard concluded, standing at the table of the War Room's Council Room and, for once, smiling purely pleasedly. "The heaviest Geth platforms, such as Colossi or Primes, still require a small number of programs. But no more than, say, a gun-team or a Mako needs to run."

"But that means the majority of Geth aren't needed for what they used to do, and can work to pilot and control ships, factory units, or just mass numbers of basic Troopers." John added, standing next to her with the aid of a pair of crutches. "From what I understand, the production of Trooper units is being made the focus of their factories.

"By tomorrow, they expect a hundred thousand mobile units functioning. For speed's sake, _none_ will be a specialised variety. Rather, the first batch will be basic Trooper units, so that we can all get underway as soon as possible." Shepard added beside him, the Admiral across from them humming his pleasure at the information. "I have a general breakdown on me I can forward to you, Sir."

"If you would, I would very much prefer to hear it from you yourself." The old man prompted as gently as he could, "You have, after all, been the unofficial liaison with the Geth since Operation Reboot."

"Of course, Admiral." Pulling her Omni-Tool up, she flicked open a file and relayed, reciting from files the Geth had no doubt sent her, "Of those, twenty-five thousand are required for expansion of production facilities, repairs to existing infrastructures, and assisting the Quarians in settling the southern continent. A further twenty five have been allocated to fleet repairs for Geth and Quarian assets and the defensive entrenchment of this and neighboring systems."

"Fifty thousand loyal machines, fit for war, isn't a bad get though." John offered gently, hoping to at least somewhat bandage the potential wound that was the low initial return on the Coalition's hefty investments into Geth space. "The rate of incoming soldiers, and their more advanced forms, will only increase. But two weeks intervals to gaining fifty thousand combat ready units?"

"It's more than a good return, don't doubt that." Hackett spoke, sounding exhausted but… Contented, for the moment. Standing straight and firm, but with a weary face and his lips pressed into a frown, the man asked, "What is the Geth fleet status, then? The Coalition ships in the system are needed to secure the rest of the Perseus Veil to further Operation Veil Piercer."

"Forty corvettes, ten destroyers and seven carriers, in addition to seventeen surviving corvettes, five desroyers and one dreadnought, are deploying come tomorrow morning." She answered simply, "Combine with the last two weeks' repairs and retrofits to the Quarian ships, we're looking at around a hundred smaller craft, and a single dreadnought class. WIth more Geth ships on the way, with at _least_ a similar number for the next fortnight."

"God, they're like the Rachni without a world to also terraform..." The man murmured, less aghast and more bemused than his words alone suggested. With a wry, simultaneously anxious and pleased, shake of his head and grimace he murmured, "If they keep this rate of production up, they'll outpace our own military strength inside a year in _every_ department."

"According to their own projections, unless they find a way to make more programs that have the full sapience they do, they'll meet their manpower limit in four months." Which meant the Geth could match around two thirds of their current force numbers. "Apparently, new program creation is _significantly_ more difficult now. They're having problems figuring out why, or how to mitigate the problems they're finding, but…"

"But it means that their manpower is finite, and they don't know how to raise it." Hackett surmised, sighing tiredly and then chuckling under his breath. Tired sounding and seemingly caught between amused, angry and resigned, he finished, "The Rachni are too, by gestation time and food to feed their hives. I suppose an infinite army was too greedy of an ambition after all."

"Would have been nice, though. If it had worked out the way you hoped, this war would have been well in hand." John could only imagine how a war with a _literally_ inexhaustible fighting force as your ally would go. Easily and watched from a distance with good food and a cold drink, if his imagination was to be trusted on the matter. But it fell to them, as they should have expected, and he asked, "We've won a big victory here and we all know it, but we can't stop here. What's our next step, Admiral?"

"Next, we consolidate our positions, entrench once again, and hold out while the Reapers lash out." The man answered simply, giving them each a long look and nodding when they seemed more than willing to go along with his orders. As though they would have argued with him, or what the man had waited _for_ , John wasn't sure. But he was speaking before he could really overthink it, "For the part of our special forces, you among them, we have _several_ jobs. Commander, I am tasking you and the _Normandy_ to Operation Leviathan's Bane."

"Leviathan's Bane?" She murmured, one brow raising, "Am I going to be briefed here or in private, Sir?"

"In private, over a secure channel." He answered, offering a small, apologetic nod to the ODST but not apologizing outright. He knew that the Trooper wouldn't have a problem with it. "All I can say here and now is it is a very special, potentially incredibly important, research operation. One that could turn the Reaper's manpower against itself in a very literal fashion."

"Understood, Sir." The woman nodded, "I'll depart once I've read the files and we've had resupply of ammunition and basic supplies."

"You already have been, Commander." Hackett answered simply, folding his hands behind his back and straightening. "What you weren't given was the specialty ammunition for Lieutenant Commander Doe's special weaponry, or spare parts for his armor. This is because those allotments are aboard the Everest, for now, due to the pressing need of his talents elsewhere."

"You're… Taking him off my team?" Her face pinched with the words and he understood all too intimately her displeasure. Partially due to their shared memories, and partially, he found with some surprise, due to his own displeasure.

An interesting discovery he ignored for now.

"Only temporarily, Commander, I assure you." Hackett assured her, admitting to the fact he was as he said it. "While you track down a missing person involved in your operation, I need him for the start of our Anti-Cerberus operations, ahead of eventually disabling them entirely. Namely, retaking Omega Station. Securing that region, in tandem with the Perseus Veil, would give us incredible anchor points along the spine of the galaxy."

"Further, there is a great consideration for the _politics_ behind these assignments." The admiral explained, gesturing to the Commander, who stiffened at so suddenly being singled out. "Were I to involve you against Cerberus, there would be concerns from some of bias. Stupid questions, to be sure, but questions nonetheless."

"That doesn't explain why you're taking part of my team, Sir." She commented as gently and politely as she could manage. And given how protective and, to be frank, _possessive_ she could be over her team… It was a testament to willpower that she remained calm at all. In that same quiet voice, like she'd restrained herself from a more _overt_ display, she added, "I don't like having my team broken up, Sir. And you read Javik's brief on what happened to the three of us."

"And with the Prothean already lost, you aren't willing to lose another Bonded." Hackett nodded, smiling grimly. Resignedly, like officers and, as evidenced here, high commanders often did. "I understand that fear, Commander, but time is not on our side here. Cerberus saboteurs hinder every advance we attempt against the Reaper occupation of greater Hegemony space, as well as a lot of former Alliance worlds. And the Reapers, for all our gains, are beginning to simply hurl numbers at our positions and hope things work out. If we don't solve _both_ problems as soon as possible, we could stand to lose everything."

"And we're the only ones who have finished securing our theaters, and who are in condition to actually move on." Shepard sighed, earning a small nod from the man that turned her sigh to a grunt of frustration. "Fine. I understand, and… I don't like it, and respect you enough to say so, but you're right. We can't wait for comfortable times before getting our jobs done."

"I'm glad you could see reason, Commander. Even though I knew you would, in the end. I know you fairly well, after all. Not as well as Anderson does, but..." The man sighed then and the Admiral away and turning to look at his reflection in the glass that surrounded them he frowned. Raising a hand, he trailed a nail along the inside of the long scars that marred his face, giving him his infamous look and unmatched gaze. "But I am sorry to force you to sacrifice more. You, of all people, I would not demand such from. I was told of what the Bond is, even if I can't understand it fully, and I am sorry to have to break you apart."

"It's what has to be done." He answered simply, giving the woman a nod when she gave him a look.

"Everyone risks their friends in this war, one way or another." Shepard added by way of agreement, nodding yet again and seeming to put the matter to rest. Instead, quiet and clipped as before, she asked, "Are there any details of either of our missions you are at liberty to discuss here?"

"He and I will be assisting one Aria T'Loak in the retaking of Omega Station, to oust Cerberus from it and secure the system. She requested you, Commander, but we offered him instead and after she was told what and who he is." Hackett answered quietly, giving the young ODST a small nod, "In exchange, Aria has promised to leverage her influence and all her resources, and join the Coalition."

"As…?" Hackett paused for a long moment, considering answering or how to answer, and the Commander elaborated, hoping, presumably, to sway the admiral to open up. He didn't mind, of course, more than happy to have the Commander in the know. "Sir, I need to know, and so does John. Aria _never_ cooperates and offers her support without a good reason."

"And given our recent string of great successes, she might not consider the Reapers enough of a threat to think that 'helping against the Reapers' is enough reward." John filled in, knowing the alien woman for memories not his own. But memories that, regardless, informed him more than well enough. "Sir, what will she be joining the Coalition _as_? I have a right to know."

"Do you?" The man asked, one brow rising in question. "You're just a soldier, after all. An important one, and a skilled one, to say the least. But just a soldier regardless. Both of you are, in fact."

"Hm." He paused for a long moment and then gave the Commander beside him a look, leaning forward on the table, leaning on his knuckles. If that was how Hackett wanted to play this, then, well... "I'm an acknowledged representative of Urdnot Wrex, speaking on part of the Krogan. Until such time as that is revoked, or he is here to speak on his and my people's behalf, I speak with his authority."

"As a member of the Coalition Council, and representative of _former_ Batarian space. Once the Reapers are pushed out, she will seize and control the territory as a monarchistic enterprise." The man answered after a long moment, offering them both a small, respectful nod. And then he _smiled_ , thin but wide. "Her manpower, a small dividend of her taxes to support the Coalition at large, and an agreement to at least ban thing slike slavery made her offer of membership and alliance a good one."

"Hm." Answers gained, he turned to look at Shepard in question, to see if she found them satisfying.

"Is there anything else you need, Admiral?" The woman asked, sounding less agitated but still… Off.

It sounded almost like she was suspicious, in some way, but she seemed to be satisfied so he let it go too. No reason to dwell on it if she wasn't suspicious or disapproving anymore, he figured. Her judgement was, based on memories both not his _and_ his, good. The Bond was useful like that, letting you know whether you could trust someone with something or not. Useful and good, if _incredibly_ annoying sometimes.

"No." The man nodded, moving to the door he turned, standing at attention and commanding their own in turn. "I don't need anything else. Lieutenant Commander Doe, you are to report for disembarkation to the _Everest_ in the morning. Commander Shepard, you are to leave tomorrow afternoon to meet up with Aria and her gathering forces near the Citadel. I wish you both the best of luck in your missions."

Once he was gone, vanished into the War Room proper to go about his business, the woman sighed loudly and turned to slam a fist into a wall. Agitation, he knew from her memories locked in his head, had always been something she couldn't handle well. Particularly when command overrode her preferences and she couldn't even argue against it, since she herself knew that the decision was the right one.

Like now, he was certain.

"First Javik, then our fuck-up with the Reaper, and now Hackett is pulling my team apart." She explained, straightening and turning to give him a look. Glaring, but not at _him_ he was certain, she asked, "You think everything is going well in spite of the shit?"

"I-"

"Give it to me straight, Rook." She cut in to order, turning and leaning back against the wall of the council room. She smiled thinly to show her agitation wasn't for him and added, "I know war, but your instincts aren't something we share. Even with the Bond. So what do you think? Do we need to be rushing about this to the point of breaking my team up for it, or is that a pointless exercise in annoying me and not much else?"

"Hm." Thinking, he leaned back against the wall opposite her and shrugged, opting for the most obvious line of argument. Rather than try and be clever, that was, since _that_ would only infuriate her more. "The sooner we take Omega and shut down Cerberus, the sooner our forces are undivided. With that, more manpower, and time to build up and train both those things as well as better vantages to strike from, we could end this war soon."

"So it's a good idea then?" She asked, one fine eyebrow raised and her arms crossed under her uniform wearing bust.

"I think so." He nodded, "I don't like leaving you or the _Normandy_ to do it, but I think so."

"Don't like leaving home?" She asked with a thin, unpleasant smile, "Or don't like leaving me for the Bond?"

Ah, so she was at the 'agitated and lashing out' phase of things, then. Luckily, he knew just the way she preferred having that dealt with. She'd done it to him a half dozen times, after all. And he knew from her memories, recalled with a moment's thought on it, that Garrus had a penchant to do the same. As had Thane, for the short but wonderful time they'd known each other.

"Eh, I don't know, Jane." He shrugged, grinning a cheshire grin and cocking his head to the side teasingly. Or trying to, emulating her as best he could and feeling the fool for it all the while. "I was always called a mama's boy, growing up, so maybe it's just that playing up. Hm?"

"Did you just-" The woman snorted across from him, hand snapping up to hide her mouth while she rolled to the side and laughed. Giving him a sidelong look and smiling again, she spluttered, "John, d-did you just make a joke? Like, an actual, honest-to-god joke?"

"Tried to at the very least, yeah." And judging from her laughing and the smile on her face, it had worked well enough. Still, he played the part he'd chosen to cheer her up and asked, smiling to show he was playing with her, "Did I mess it up? I thought it was pretty funny, for an amateur attempt."

"No, no, you did fine, John. Just fine." She smiled, shaking her head and pushing off the wall. Sounding somewhat more at ease, if only because she knew he was _trying_ to help her whether it was succeeding or not, she shrugged. "Maybe stick to shooting people instead of trying for a career in stand-up comedy, though."

"That bad?" He grimaced.

"No, no, it was funny, honest." She chuckled, waving him off and rolling her eyes at his continued amusement. Even as weak as the attempts were, the _attempting_ seemed to be more than enough to brighten the commander's mood more and more as time passed. "But to be honest, you're _much_ better at shooting people. _So_ much better."

"I think I get it."

"Like, _monumentally_ better."

"Come on, now." He grunted, grinning mirthfully but waving his hands in front of himself comically to keep playing the part. 'Don't quit while it's working', as his drill sergeant had said. In between gunshots popping off beside his head. "Don't over do it now, Commander."

"Like, I get that you _tried_ and all, and that's good! Like, really good, that you tried." She grinned, strolling over to him and throwing an arm around his shoulders. Hugging him against her side, she chuckled and rambled in equal measure, affectionately squeezing him so he'd know she was just playing the game still. "But how about we stick to you stabbing, blowing up, and otherwise pulverizing things, hmm? Mama knows best, right?"

"Now you're just being mean, Jane. I didn't think you'd be a bully like this." He falsely complained weakly, earning a small, almost feral but _definitely_ amused in the manic sort of way she always tended to carry herself.

When she wasn't _shooting something_ at least.

"I suppose we should get ready to leave tomorrow, huh?" She asked instead of responding, holding him against her side and letting her eyes close as she just _relaxed_ there. Something he knew she didn't get to do nearly as often as she should. "We finish Cerberus, retake the Terminus systems as much as we can, and start grinding the Reapers back. That's the plan, yeah?"

"Yeah, that's the gist of it." As much as it was very much a case of 'easier said than done', that was where they were at. And for not the first time, but rare enough to savor it, he could see a path to victory for them. Which, as he often reminded himself, was a _lot_ more than he'd been able to say for the UNSC back in the day. "Rumor has it they're entrenching in Sol, presumably expecting us to push there."

"Not a bad idea." Shepard responded, "Sol has the big asteroid field, they can mine it for raw materials, process in-system, and build all manner of bullshit. Mines, stationary guns, gods, the drones I'm sure they'll have… It'll be hell."

"We won't be there for it." He half-complained, half simply stated. "The fleets will assault and then we'll come in behind, probably. We'll be on the ground assault teams, taking stations and retaking Earth proper."

He was spit balling, of course. No plans to assault Sol existed, and, indeed, none _could_. They had no information that he knew of in regards to how Sol was defended. Ergo, no plans existed. But still, it was nice to talk about the future. To simply assert they would be retaking Earth at some distant point was more than enough for him, in that moment.

"Come on." She grunted simply, letting him go and stretching as she turned. "Let's grab some dinner together with the crew while we can. You have a big day tomorrow. Baby's first solo mission!"

With a roll of his eyes, and a decision not to correct the obvious, he turned to follow her. A good dinner together sounded nice before he left on assignment. Or at least, nicer than packing did in that moment. Not that he had much _to_ pack, of course, but still. Principle of the thing.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Chapter is probably - writing this note before finishing - going to be shorter than the norm. This is almost entirely due to Thanksgiving and the fact that this is a segue and/or setup chapter entirely. Also had to speed up towards the end, but wanted some fluff for you all, so yeah. Apologies but not much I could do.**_

 _ **Happy thanksgiving.**_

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Species Unknown :**_

' **Planetary Boarding Torpedoes' earns a snort from me every time. XD**

 _ **Batman 9117 :**_

 **Yep! I sneak references in this story ALL the time.**

 _ **DJ (Guest) :**_

 **Glad you enjoyed it so much! Will be sad when it, soon** _ **ish**_ **, wraps up. But ah, such is the life of a writer. Eventually a story has been told.**


	37. Operation Hades : Omega Part I

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

_**Official Supporters:**_

 _ **Grand Priestess,**_ **Luna Haile.**

 _ **High Priests,**_ **Alvelvnor, Gage.**

 _ **Priests,**_ **The Impossible Muffin** _ **,**_ **Xager the Chaos King.**

 _ **Adeptus,**_ **Private Wilger**

 _ **Ze Nope Rope,**_ **Kaiser Snek, Snekiest Snek, Emperor of All**

 _ **Acolytes,**_ **DigiDemonLord** _ **,**_ **Stonecold, Cheeseberry**

 _ **Initiates,**_ **Greg Gibson, Espa Cole** _ ****_

 _ **If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our private server for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, please leave me a comment to let me know if you did, or where I can improve. Link here, where able to be seen :**_ _ **/2UZncAm**_

 _ **Second link here, remove spaces and it SHOULD work : D iscord . gg (slash) kfhkfUb**_

 _ **I have a kofi account now, too, under this name for those interested.**_

 _ **Beta : Ze Kaiser Snek**_

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

His quarters aboard the _Everest_ were a far cry from either those of UNSC ships he'd crewed on or his own back home on the _Normandy_. Those had been cramped, utilitarian and rugged, with only as much space as could be found. He'd never cared, really. Always too focused on the wars in either case to pay much attention to where he was told to sleep.

And besides, he didn't tend to really spend a lot of time sleeping in those quarters. Instead finding comfortable enough places on various battlefields to rest his head like the rest of the men and women with him did. Not the best places to sleep, to be sure, but they sufficed well enough. All part of a Trooper's way of life, he supposed.

ODSTs weren't _meant_ or _made_ for comfortable beds and hot meals, they were meant for the heavy lifting along a combat zone's front.

His quarters on the _Everest_ , though, were different. _Private_ and _spacious_ in an obviously special way, though admittedly still one room. In one corner was a bed too soft for him to be comfortable on yet, set into a metal shape made for it and attached to the bulkhead for obvious safety reasons. Beside that was a set of simple drawers he knew held spare uniforms. Uniforms that, when he took them off at night, went down a chute in the corner on the other side of the drawer set that otherwise filled out that wall.

His name stitched onto his uniform apparently told those who handled the chore of pressing it for him who and where he was to return it.

The last piece of furniture was a simplistic metal desk, with a coffee pot in one corner and a lamp built into the structure on the other. The pot, and the aromatic brew boiling inside it, were gifts from Hackett. His way of offering an olive branch, he was sure. A small gesture. An _appreciated_ one, though, while he made another three weeks now worth of reports of him doing nothing at all. Simply cataloging his gym time, his requisitions as few as _they_ were, and a daily journal for 'his thoughts'. 'A formality' apparently, and one he couldn't avoid since Hackett hadn't given him any duties for the entire trip to Omega while he was on _active duty_.

A formality, but one that was _annoying as hell_ for him.

Still, the up-side was that according to projections, it was a three and a half week trip at most to Omega. And they'd not run into any Reapers, so that projection held true. Which meant that soon enough, he'd be back to work, and rested ahead of it to boot. A fact which he felt relatively sure was the _point_ of his lack of assignments and duties up until now.

Not that he much enjoyed the 'rest and relaxation' he'd been involuntarily forced into all that much, personally.

A knock at his door interrupted him in his reports _and_ musings and he blinked at who he saw when he stood to press the door release. "Admiral?"

"Lieutenant Commander Doe." The man nodded his greeting and stepped to the side, gesturing down the quiet cool of the crew hallway. Taking the cue, the 'Trooper stepped into the hall, and the quiet of on-duty hours when few to none were in the quarters compartment of the warship, and walked beside the Admiral. "Good to see you well, Doe. From what I hear, though, you're getting a bit stir crazy down here with nothing to do."

"What you hear, Sir?" He hadn't complained to anyone, so he wasn't sure who'd have heard anything from him.

"I do _read_ your reports, Lieutenant Commander." The Admiral answered with a small, roguish smile and a raised brow. "And I notice when you spend a lot of your wages on weapon upgrades to tinker with. Or when you clock a lot of gym time."

"Ah." That… Made sense, he supposed, given his rather _unique_ assignment. In answer, though, he spoke quietly, "Sorry, Admiral. I… I don't do well without something to work on. Too much in my head to just sit around, Sir."

"Mhm. You have my sympathy for what you're dealing with, son, if not my envy." The man nodded respectfully and John quietly returned it, the duo silently agreeing to put the matter out of mind. "Regardless, I'm glad to be able to help you with the problem. Aria T'Loak and her mercenaries are waiting for us nearby. The Coalition flotilla will be combining with theirs shortly, and you and I will be meeting her in my office for a proper briefing."

"Good." He smiled, "It will be good to finally get to work, Sir."

"Indeed it will, son. Indeed it will." The man came to a stop at a four-way juncture and turned to him, offering a small nod and a crisp order, "We're rendezvousing at the Relay and. Once we jump, it will be straight into combat. As such, I want you armed and armored for this briefing."

"For the mission or for Aria?"

"Both, Lieutenant Commander Doe. I don't much trust mercenaries at the best of times. Or I didn't before the Coalition formed, at least. Regardless, these are under _Aria's_ control, and I don't trust her. Or them, for that matter." The Admiral answered simply, earning a small nod from the younger soldier. "I want you armored and there to make your best impression."

"Understood, Sir." He grunted, offering a Krogan salute as always and adding a curt, "I'll be there right away."

"Good man, good man. I will see you at the meeting, then." The Admiral nodded, turning and walking away without further comment once he returned the gesture.

Out of respect, he waited until the man rounded the nearby corner before himself turning to take his own leave.

Unlike the _Normandy_ , the _Everest_ was a true ship of the line, with ten times as many decks and an almost maze-like expanse of hallways to match. Each was numbered in large white letters based on the deck and which end you were at, of course, but the gist still remained the same. Without a point of reference to translate those numbers, or a guide or someone to offer directions, he was sure that someone could easily get lost in the bowels of the ship.

Luckily he was more than used to navigating such ships and had easily memorized the winding hallways that led to his typical destinations. The cafeteria, the gym, the medical decks - thanks to Chakwas, he was certain - and of course, the armory and workshop. Two places he spent enough time in to agitate the master of arms for the ship.

"Lieutenant Commander Doe." The positive _brick_ of a woman grunted when he stepped through the door into the cool, even more strictly climate-controlled air of the armory. "Here to gear up for a mission or just to micromanage me doin' my job?"

Taller than him and broader as well, with coils of muscle and a cleanly shaved, scarred head, the woman fit to a tee the stereotype of an armory sergeant. And she was right at home behind her desk in the sterile office area of the armory. A door to her side glowed a dull, locked red, but beyond it he knew were rows of sealed lockers for weapons and armor storage. One of a couple dozen of such rooms scattered along the ship, he knew, but where his were stored under the ship's master at arms directly.

Another 'perk' of his station, he'd been told.

"No, Master-at-Arms. I'm not." He grunted in answer, approaching the desk and taking the slip she handed him to fill out his taking his gear out of storage. He didn't bother pointing out that his armor was foreign and thus he wanted to insure it remained well-maintained, of course, knowing how well _that_ would go over. "I've been ordered to get into my armor to meet with a VIP ahead of a combat mission."

" _A_ combat mission or _the_ combat mission?" The woman asked quietly, eyes narrowing when he gave her a look. "Where we're heading is no secret, LC. And how long it takes to get there, for that matter. Details are sketch, sure, but we know the gist. We about to head in?"

He considered for a moment whether it was his place to answer such a question or not. Technically speaking, doing so would be illegal. But on the other hand, it wouldn't really _matter._ And he doubted Hackett would actually bring charges against him. The political impact would be one he wouldn't enjoy, not to mention stripping him from active duty while he was tried.

 _That_ wouldn't fly in any respects, he suspected.

"I'm to head out for briefing while we traverse and, soon, we're going to it the Relay. After that…" He shrugged noncommittally and finished filling out the form while the woman watched on, her lips pursed anxiously. But also resignedly. "I don't know the full plan, though."

"Yeah, hence the briefing." The woman grunted, "I get it. Just another in the slog though, yeah?"

"Mhm." He nodded, sliding the paper across to her and straightening. She took it and stood and, for no real reason aside from the same formalities, he grunted, "My requisition form. Extra ammunition as well, please."

"Expecting trouble?" She asked as she punched in the armory's access code, giving him a look with a raised, scarred brow.

"I'm always expecting trouble, Ma'am." His training had instilled that deeply in him and done so on purpose. If you were always prepared for trouble, then you could make your chances of dealing with it when it _did_ come double. "The Admiral doesn't trust mercenaries working for anyone that isn't him and so I don't either. If they try anything at all, I want to be ready for them. All just part of me doing my job."

"Fair enough." The woman grunted, letting the door hiss open and gesturing him through it. Returning to her seat she added a final, dismissive, "Get your gear and whatever else you'll need. I'll process the paperwork."

"Mhm." He nodded his thanks and did as instructed, stepping into the long room and walking along the red-lit lockers.

Each of the lockers was as big as a man, with enough space for any and all armor and weaponry a soldier might have. Finding his was easy enough, his name written on the front in bright white letters. Cracking it open he sighed and pulled his uniform off, tugging the undersuit out to get ready properly. Once he was dressed and had the comfortable weight of his armor and weapons weighing down on him once again he returned to the front room.

"Here you go, LC." The woman grunted when she saw him, setting a small box onto the counter. Helmet on, he gave it a look and then her in a clear, if silent, question. "Oh joy, the 'strong silent type', how fun and unique… It's some Omni-Grenades for you. Key 'em into your Omni-Tool and you can set 'em off at will. About ten of 'em. Should help you out if shit goes down, here, there or anywhere else."

"Ah. Thank you, then." He murmured, picking up the small box and locking it onto the back of his waist. A little hatch he saw on one side could open to dispense the little explosives into his hand. Satisfied, he gave the other soldier a last nod, "See you later."

"Hopefully." The woman grunted with a small chuckle, "If you don't, I'm _probably_ dead, so yeah. Hopefully."

"Not allowed to die. If you do, the _Everest_ is probably dead, too. And it's my ride, so that's not allowed." He shrugged and she returned it with an added wave towards the door, silently telling him to leave. Turning, he gave her a grateful nod and added a parting, "Good luck in the mess, armory master."

"Yep."

And with that, he was alone again, walking the hallways. This time they were less silent,, the heavy footfalls of his armor carrying around him with each step. He could have walked more softly, rolled his feet with each step, to keep the sound down. He'd been trained to know how to do that, after all. A true necessity in his line of work, to say the _very_ damn least. But he chose not to, enjoying the sound as he traveled the empty decks towards the noises just barely audible far ahead of him. Familiar sounds but with that same strange alienness to them that he'd grown so used to.

As contradictory as _that_ idea was it was still true. But his armor's familiar clunks and thunks as he walked offered some small comfort for it.

Rounding a corner he finally left the crew and storage compartments and came into the working ones. Rooms with their doors held open - if they had them, he often couldn't discern between those that did and didn't - passed by on either side, full of armored and uniformed soldiers going about their tasks. Some paid him nods and, in two or three cases, paused to offer salutes he nodded to in turn. Others, and most in fact much to his comfort, ignored him and stayed glued to their terminals, carrying out all the tasks a modern ship of war needed to run and do its job.

"The Admiral and the contacts are waiting inside, Sir." A soldier reported as he reached the end of the hall and stopped just ahead of the command deck. Armored in dark blue and black, he recognized the special forces bodyguards the Admiral surrounded himself with. The young woman gestured with a hand at the door and the red lock turned blue, and she finished, "Go on in, Sir. They're waiting on you."

"Thanks." He grunted, offering a farewell nod to the woman and her counterpart on the other side of the door and then reaching for the control panel himself.

Inside, the room was a modest, typically military affair. The same clean, off-blue walls as elsewhere stretched around the room, this time broken by a window that looked out on the massive Relay they were steadily approaching. Along with the debris of listless and drifting, very _dead_ Reapers and ruined ships surrounding it. Even now, he could discern a small fleet of little tug-ships latching onto the ships and hauling them away. The formerly allied ships were hauled away towards them, but he saw the Reaper remains being dragged even further on, towards the system's star and gas giants.

There, he assumed, they'd be hurled into the sun to burn or the gas giant to be crushed into nothing.

Inside the room the only furnishings were a few chairs, most fit for those more human sized to use, and a wide, round and simple table. On one side he saw the Admiral, sitting in a simple chair with his hands folded on the table. His uniform, like the ODST's armor, had been thoroughly cleaned and prepared to look it's absolute best. With smooth, pressed folds, bright and cultured colors very unlike the faded blue of other uniforms he'd seen on the ship and his resplendent medals gleaming, the man looked like someone out of a history book. Every bit the old, famed general who commanded absolute authority and respect from all those beneath him.

A stark contrast to the two across from him.

The first was an old and haggard looking Krogan with red and orange skin, his eyes meeting the young Human's when he looked at him and echoing respect. The great, scarred head bowed slightly in greeting and he returned it. It was a show of mutual respect for his clan's insignia and his name, as well as the deed behind them.

"About time. I almost thought you'd decided to skip." The Asari sitting beside the great Krogan, though, offered no such respect. Propping her feet up on the table and crossing her arms, she gave him a once over and asked, "So _you_ are the infamous 'Sand Swimmer' eh?"

"I am." He nodded.

"Gotta say, I'm… Kind of disappointed, actually." She grinned and cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrow and appraising, and then shrugged tiredly. "From the Patriarch's _glowing_ recommendation, I thought you'd be… A bit _more_."

"Hm." She was baiting him, he could tell. Testing him to see what he'd do in response, while who he presumed was the Patriarch glowered for it. Electing to give her the gravest of Krogan insults he could, he ignored her completely and turned to the Admiral instead, "I'm here, Sir. As ordered."

"Take a seat, John." The man ordered quietly, waiting until he sat beside the man to make proper introductions. "This is Aria T'Loak, the monarch of Omega. Beside her is her advisor, the Patriarch."

"Patriarch." He nodded respectfully, turning to give the smirking Asari a similar, if more shallow, nod. Affecting as quiet a tone as possible, he grunted, "Your majesty."

"Oh, I think I might just like you after all." She snorted in amusement, seemingly taking his feigned respect as real and appreciating. Or, more likely from the crinkling of her eyes and the ferality of her smile, amused at him insulting her at all. Giving the Patriarch a look she gave him a nod and, sounding pleased, crowed, "It seems you have your uses after all! Color me impressed, old man. Very impressed indeed."

"Krogan don't offer our respect easily, Aria." The Krogan growled in answer, voice full of as much gravitas as age could grant an old Krogan warrior. "And Hackett has it as well. One of the few alive that Krogan, as a rule, offer our respect to. The reasons why bring us here, in fact, and I would encourage we get to the matter at hand."

"Why the rush?"

"Retaking your throne shouldn't be anything we wait to do." The Patriarch rumbled in answer, earning a small, grim-faced nod from the woman. Taking it and her silence as permission to continue, the Krogan nodded and went on. "Our fleet has been pulling back for the last few weeks, Admiral. We used them to clear the avenues for your approach to speed you along when you finished up on Rannoch."

"That answers why our sailing was so smooth, then." The Admiral sounded amused as he answered, leaning back in his seat and chuckling. "Thank you both for the assistance, then. No one wants to delay any longer than is necessary, it seems."

"Indeed. We are eager to retake our home and status, as well as end this great war we have found ourselves embroiled in." The Krogan answered, giving the woman at his side a look. She only huffed and waved for him to speak, though, eliciting a small sigh from the old man. "We suffered some casualties out there, I won't lie. But we kept our heavy assault craft back, to take part in the battle for Omega."

"I bet that went over well." Hackett murmured, voice low and full of sympathy. At the Krogan's hum of questioning, he went on, "I know the same protocols were hard to enact in the Coalition, before the Rachni volunteered to take the bulk of that sort of work."

"Mercenaries do as they're ordered to, old man. Or they don't get paid. Way of the world out here." Aria shrugged dismissively and the 'old man' sighed, aggravated at the flippant dismissal of casualties no doubt. Either ignorant or ignoring it, she moved on, "How about we get to the fun part and decide how we're taking back Omega?"

"A special tactical insertion via insertion pods of shock troopers, the 'Trooper here with them, to secure docking zones while we smash through the Cerberus fleet. The _Everest_ and the heaviest ships we have will punch a hole in their defenses and offload an invasion force." Hackett answered simply, gesturing at the armored man as he did. John nodded at being addressed and the man went on, "Once aboard, N7 specialists and those like them will proceed to sabotage Cerberus entrenchments, leadership, etcetera."

"Once enough damage has been done, the people of Omega will rise up. No doubt they will praise the queen that ousts the xenophobic Cebrberus." The Patriarch grunted at his queen's side, giving her a look when she grimaced and speaking to her instead. "If you take part in the attack, you can spin it as your rightful return and a liberation. Whatever the dogs are doing, I doubt it is _kind_ to those non-Humans aboard the station."

"The Humans will get no better." John offered as an addition, crossing his arms as he went on, "Cerberus forcibly augments civilians to serve as their soldiers. It's likely they'll be either preparing to, or possibly already _doing_ it, that on Omega."

"Our secondary objectives will be information collection. Base locations, numbers of troops, goals, etcetera. Anything they can find to point us to more Cerberus targets of value in the theater." Hackett went on, offering a grateful nod to the ODST at his side. The younger man returned it and the Admiral went on, "With our forces combined, we should have little issue dealing with the Cerberus defenses at the station. I'm more worried with hunting down leftovers in the system."

"My scouts sent reports on what we've already found." Aria offered in as helpful a tone as she was likely capable of, which was to say filled with snark and self importance, "If you don't mind, I would _very much_ enjoy getting to deal with a few of them myself. Call me petulant, or whatever, but I would enjoy a bit of payback."

"I am more than aware of your temperament and your reports, Aria." Hackett responded smiling snidely at the slight barb in his words, And it _was_ a slight barb, to be sure, but the ODST was pretty sure that was the best he'd ever try when it came to making digs at dignitaries. The man turned to nod at the window and the three others followed his gaze, watching Coalition ships take up positions and begin Relaying through. "We have teams designated to hit the most vital of these facilities already, some of which are already under way."

"A forward assaulting party." The Patriarch grunted, drumming massive, meaty fingers on the table as he did. "To protect the more valuable of your ships… Rachni, aren't they? You said they take the bulk of those sorts of jobs."

"And in my own words to boot. Those are Rachni crewed ships, mostly, yes." The Admiral chuckled quietly, shaking his head before growing more serious. "Among them are non-Rachni, however. Assault and scout teams, to hit the targets we need gone before we launch our full assault."

"Hm. Well, I suppose you have it all planned out, then." Something about the situation bugged the woman, he could tell, but he wasn't sure what specifically. Whether it was leaning so heavily on the Coalition, or her lack of true input, he couldn't be sure. "Then let's get this going, shall we?"

"You both have pods set out on Deck Nineteen, ready for you to launch once we come though the Relay and align targeting systems." Hackett answered as he rose and the trio mirrored his action, the man finishing on a simple, "Good luck to us all. The success of Operation Hades will set the stage for Operation Phoenix, and the _end_ of this war."

And if the operation _failed_ , John didn't say, then it would set the stage regardless. But not for them to return to their homeworlds and retake their galaxy. Instead, it would set the stage for their annihilation, and the continuance of the cycle of Reaper devastation.

" _No pressure, though…"_ He thought to himself as he left the room and began to prepare for another drop.

This time, his pod didn't need his handiwork to match what he'd want. Instead, his clan's orange insignia had been emblazoned on either flank. And done so in clean, clear lines he never could have hoped to achieve himself.

"I, uh, heard you modified yours, Lieutenant Commander." A technician said in a quiet, richly french sort of voice as she came up, shoulders sloped anxiously and skin pale from too much time spent inside a starship and not on a planet. He gave her a look and the young brunette flinched as though struck, face down. "S-Sorry, do you not like it? If you don't, I have time to-"

"It's fine." He grunted before the poor little woman could panic more. Turning to look at it once again, he added, "You did better than I would have, at least. Thank you. Miss…?"

"O-Oh, um, my name is Eclaire Beau." The woman smiled, still nervous but more relaxed now she knew he wasn't agitated. Why he would have been, and why she would _fear him_ for it, he wasn't able to guess. "I'm a deck assistant, with the drop specialists. I keep the pods maintained, repair ones that can be recovered, and make sure the specialists are satisfied with… Whatever they want me to do, I-I guess."

"Hm." It made sense, he supposed. "Thank you for the paint-job, Miss Beau."

"O-Of course." She nodded, taking a step closer and holding out her hands. He looked to them and then to her and she explained quietly, "I-I can load in your weapons, if you want me to. In case you want to do something else, I mean."

"No, thank you." He grunted, turning and starting his climb up the ladder and into the pod he'd been assigned to. Inside his pod, he slotted his weapons into the brackets built into the structure. And then, finally, he turned and settled into the seat to get comfortable.

Around him, he felt the ship _shudder_ as they began to Relay, and his pod began to shift into launch position.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 **I suck at writing for Aria.**

 **That is all.**

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Dr Killinger :**_

 **Yep! A terrible plan. Wonder how it will go here, though~**


	38. Operation Hades - Omega Part II

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

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"Your drop location will, uh, it will be isolated from the other specialists." He heard the assistant's voice crackle in his ear, a glowing orange display of a section of Omega lighting up as she did. It zoomed in on a northern section, showing a bare impression of a few decks and designating a spot on each. "Each of these decks has an access dock under what intelligence has determined to be _light_ lock down."

"Mhm." _Light lock down_ , according to intelligence? He sighed, thumbed the M7S slotted in beside his Harrier knowingly, and nodded his understanding. "Understood, Miss Beau. What are my short-op assignments?"

"Confirm our intelligence, secure the docking area, signal for allies to dock and assist with their orders or assume command as you determine is needed." She answered clippedly, in the way that one did while reading a list off of a piece of paper. "Other teams will be hitting more heavily secured zones, and making a… Show of Aria T'Loak being with them, retaking her station."

"Propaganda."

"Yeah."

"Mhmm." It made all the sense, really, to play up her involvement. Like they'd said in the meeting. And this sort of stunt would tie her directly to the Coalition, legitimizing them both in turn. "Is that all?"

"The rest is up to you to determine on-site." She answered quietly. Before he could respond, she had moved on, "I'm checking your pod's seal. Check your armor and hard-suit. Launch in ninety seconds."

"Armor seals green across the board." Nature of the mission - being _punching into a space station_ with a heavy drop pod and then _fighting there_ \- had reasonably meant wearing a fully hardsuit. And while he preferred the tactile feel of the open trigger finger, he found the textured inside of his suit preferable to the _vacuum of space._

It was _warmer_ at the very least.

"Pod status is green as well, Lieutenant Commander." And with a jittering tremor, he felt it lock into what had to be final launch position, set on what seemed to amount to a railgun catapult system, from what he had seen of it. "Launching in around sixty seconds, last call. Good luck, and godspeed in your mission."

"Understood. Ready to launch as soon as possible." He would have preferred 'happy hunting' personally, with his opinions on the heare-after and the like. In all fairness, though, the Covenant may have _colored_ his opinion of such things a bit. "Heavy orbital plasma bombardment has a habit of that…"

"Pardon?"

"Nothing." He grunted, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Talking to myself."

"Long as you don't argue with yourself..."

"Nah, I don't do that anymore." He cracked a smile he knew no one could see and chuckled, then, and added, "I lost them too often to keep doing it, so I cut the habit out. Lesson one, Miss Beau. I really, _really_ _hate_ losing."

"Well, you'll, uh, just have to win the war then, so you won't lose. Won't you?" He chuckled but didn't answer, feeling his pod shudder around and letting it cut him off. Her ease gone from her voice, she grunted a last warning, "Launching. Brace for launch and impact, flak is light but present."

He never got a chance to answer, feeling momentum _slam_ him back against the seat he was on and sucking in a breath as he was launched through. For a few seconds, all he could see was darkness, and all he could feel was the tremor that launching through the long tube gave him, reverberating powerfully through the hull of his pod. A heartbeat, and he felt the tremors die as he broke free of the armored hull of the _Everest's_ prow.

Through the viewscreen above him he saw dozens more pods like his, interspersed between torpedoes meant to mask their existence. Not in the sense of being _invisible_ , he knew, but rather to make their landing assaults easier. At least in theory. Regardless, insertion pods, torpedoes and, somewhat faster and more _fiery_ , mass accelerator fire lanced by Rachni forward assault ships towards Omega.

And for a moment, all was quiet and peaceful, just them drifting through the orange and ruddy colored space around Omega.

But as always, reality was swift to come crashing down, the bow of a black and white ship creeping into view hundreds of miles away. Red light glinted as its GARDIAN systems kicked in, lashing out and lancing down the torpedoes they had detected incoming. Muted, he saw a hundred missiles and mass accelerators, alongside a handful of unlucky pods of course, be swatted aside as it and other Cerberus ships engaged the barrage.

His hand lingered on the personal control stick beside him for a moment, tempted so badly to engage the thrusters early and take evasive maneuvers. But if he did, he knew, then Cerberus would detect his thermals and blot him out of the sky _specifically_. Worse, it would spoil their gambit entirely. Something that _only_ one of them reacting that way would do, as their trajectories had been pre-plotted to avoid _any_ Cerberus ships, even as he saw torpedoes impacting along Cerberus hulls.

And so, silent aside from his heart hammering in his chest, he drifted by the Cerberus battle line. Passing first corvettes, and then even beyond the heavy destroyers, cruisers, frigates, and a Cerberus dreadnought much like the _Everest_ itself. Aside from its color, of course. Still, as helpless as he was, he took some satisfaction in watching the accelerator rounds and torpedoes - few of _either_ as there were, now, having impacted the ships he'd already passed or been stopped - punch into its hull and kinetic barriers. Smoke and fire billowed alongside debris as holes were punched and explosions ripped through decks, before fire, manpower and debris all were _blown_ into space and sent reeling into the abyss.

"They were already dead." He reminded himself as pity and sympathy panged painfully in his chest. "Or dying at least. Either way, better to get it over with. For them and everyone else included."

No one responded to his well thought out points, of course.

He was only talking to himself, after all.

"And after you just said you'd stopped that, too." He murmured with a wry chuckle, looking past his feet at the fast approaching outside of Omega Station. "No time to argue, though… It's time to _work_."

A moment later, he closed his eyes and flared his thrusters as the armored tip punched into old, worn metal and began shearing its way through. With the aid of the boosters, he ripped through the armor and stone as so much butter. Finally, he felt the engines die as their minute amount of fuel gave out. Just in time for him to punch through and into open air, falling as wind _howled_ out the hole he'd made, until the kinetic barriers kicked in and sealed it.

He struck a building as he fell, though, and twisted sharply as he fell, jerking him around in his pod. Another building and he snapped the other way, ping ponging off walls in both senses until he _crashed_ against the ground and came to a groaning stop. Groaning in the sense of stressed, impacted metal, and equally stressed and impacted _Human being_ , that was. He let himself have a moment to breathe and recover, sucking in air through gritted teeth and ringing ears.

Only a moment, though.

He knew a _lot_ better than to lay in a _very_ conspicuous pod, in the middle of enemy territory, and take a _nap_. You'd have to knock him unconscious for him to consider something as suicidal as _that_ acceptable. Instead, he flicked off his straps and sat up, yanking his M7S from its holster with one hand and reaching to flick the manual release switches with the other. Yanking its stock out he slid into a kneeling position inside the pod and hit the last release, standing with the door as it _launched_ into the sky and sailed away.

Standing on his former seat he turned in a slow circle, pinging his VISR as he went. He'd landed partially in a wide alleyway or walkway, and partially _on_ a small building, shearing it in half under the armored weight of his mostly destroyed wings. Inside was what looked like a shop of some kind, empty aside from rubble and ruined furniture. Around them, though, the ward was destitute, dust ridden and, above all, so eerily silent that it made his spine tingle and his skin crawl.

Something about this place was driving his instincts mad. He'd been told Omega was _overpopulated_ , full of cramped apartment blocks and slums. Quietly, even if his voice _sounded_ loud as sin in the dead of the silence, he murmured, "Where are all the people, then?"

No answer came, of course, but neither did any enemies wander into view at the end of the pathway. And so he knelt, leaving his worn M7 on the hull and quickly retrieving his weapons and the case of explosives he'd been gifted. Once he was loaded, he pulled himself over the rim of the hull and slid down along its front. He landed in a crouch and stayed there, one hand aiming his M7 at the entry to the alley and other reaching for a charge to plant.

"No sense giving them our tech to study when it can be helped." And he knew that _this_ pod's concept and design had only come _from_ one of his pods, so there was no sense risking that happening again.

That in mind he turned, and with a charge planted right under its nose, he made his way to the front of the wide alleyway. He paused at the corner to peak to either side and found a wide road made of brickwork, surrounded by old buildings marked in alien languages that did nothing to disguise it being some kind of market. Parked cars were interspersed in front of and behind buildings, and lights flickered overhead like something out of an old noir film, complete with equally flickery neon backlighting from the stores.

But not a soul in sight, and some of the doors were even open…

"Something is wrong here. _Very_ wrong." He murmured lowly, chewing the inside of his cheek as he stepped from cover on the off chance _someone_ would call him out.

A firefight would be better than this sinking, sour feeling he had in his gut. His HUD showed local time at only a bit past three in the afternoon, but it was dead. Standing in the open, he couldn't see anything, and _no one_ , Cerberus or otherwise, made a move against him. A sensor sweep with his VISR even confirmed that there weren't any signals being broadcast, so it wasn't like he was being watched by _drones_.

The district was empty at what should have been the busiest hour of the day, and appeared to be unwatched to boot.

But he knew better than to look a gift war zone in the mouth and forced himself to move an, setting aside for the moment the mystery of the empty shopping district and setting eyes on his objective. Literally, in fact, as he could see signs pointing out directions, and one of those was towards the docking section along the outer hull of the old station. As he rounded a corner and slipped into another alleyway, he raised his arm and sent a signal to his planted bomb. The resulting explosion was powerfully enough that he saw the tall building beside it collapse, and felt the tremors reverberate through his feet.

Good fortune struck as the street lights flickered and died and alarms began to blare around him, the shoddy construction and maintenance of the station resulting in the main grid dying. Some of the building's lights stayed on, though, for whatever reason, and cast the district in uneven hues of orange, neon colors, and red alarm lights. That was where his good luck _ended_ , though. A second explosion ripped through the street, crawling along it for almost a block and _ripping_ down the fronts of several more buildings, sparking fires all along its edge.

Before reactors - Cerberus or otherwise, it didn't matter - could come to investigate and fight the fire, he turned and began a quick jog away and towards the docking zones. He did _not_ want to get caught in a firefight with his back to a fire.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

Finding the Cerberus cordon around the docking zone was easily done, especially in the near silence of the mostly abandoned district. The docking section itself looked like an old style train station, made of nicer brickwork than nearby buildings and three stories in height. A wide, open semi-circle had been left around it, presumably for arrivals to meet and greet family and friends. What had _filled it_ he wasn't sure, as it had all been stripped down and replaced by Cerberus defences.

The most impressive was a simple perimeter wall that cut through the halfway point of the pseudo-plaza, two stories in height and walked by a half-dozen Cerberus Troopers. Along with a single more heavily armored Centurion he knew to be in charge of the squad. Inside, his VISR's more intensive structure scans showed little aside from two moderately large buildings to either side of the docking zone. Swapping his VISR to its motion based setting, he took one for the barracks, full of barely discernible blocks of lines, where his system was attempting to delineate and identify individuals.

It failed, of course, too far away and with too many obstructions in the way. It did the job regardless, though. Using the poor motion signatures, he could see about as many men inside the compound as were patrolling the wall. Along with a handful of what he assumed to be officers.

"A full rotation, then. Plus anyone that left to deal with the fire." He murmured to himself, kneeling behind a window in an abandoned, but admittedly rather nice, apartment he'd broken into.

No one had been there either, of course, and he still didn't know why they'd all vanished. Whether something nefarious had happened, or Cerberus had simply evacuated the outer sections ahead of the battle, he couldn't be sure. What he _did_ know was that while the sight-line was alright enough for spotting with his VISR, he couldn't engage from where he was. The building simply had too many entrances to be able to mount a defence in, and Cerberus would have him surrounded before he could kill nearly thirty men himself in a fair fight.

But he wasn't going to fight a fair fight, so that didn't matter.

The building he was in was five stories tall, and set a hundred feet or so from the compound's outer wall. So he went to the first floor and broke into the rooms there in the same way he had before, by using his Krogan knife to pry the frame apart and simply letting the still locked door lean against the wall inside. He planted a few of the powerful little explosives in the rooms, and in the spinal stairway, to cripple it and _encourage_ it to fall a certain way.

He left them there and, creeping through alleyways to avoid exposing himself, circled around until he reached an alley that ran along one of the exterior wall sections. Still, he could stand and peek around the dumpster to see the building in question, directly across the Safely hidden behind a rusty dumpster, he smiled and set the explosives off with a simple press of a button.

The explosion ripped through half of the bottom of the building, sending debris hurling across the plaza and clattering against the armored hull of the wall. A few small specks of stone even reached him, dozens and dozens of feet away, clattering against the outer section of the station. The soldiers on the wall were quick to respond, crouching low behind the barrier and jogging towards the wall section closest to the damaged building, anticipating an attack. Then two more far more muted _whumps_ echoed through the dead air, and the building groaned.

And then it began to _tip_ , while the Cerberus Troopers stood and began to back away.

Rising, he leveled his Harrier at the space between the Centurion's shoulder blades and waited. The stone of the building gave a final _crack_ and began to fall and, in the same moment, he let his burst punch forth. The rounds sparked off his barriers but surprised and, for a moment, stunned him, before he turned to look for the shooter. Out of kindness, the ODST stood and snapped a lazy salute for him just as the man saw him.

And, coincidentally, just as the building came down on him, crushing him, three of his men that were too slow to get out of the way, and a third of the wall under its weight.

"Down to nine, one and three." He murmured as he turned and vanished down the alleyway, kneeling to plant a charge behind the dumpster and then firing two shots with his rifle. In a faux-surprised voice, he shouted, "Shit!"

"Shots!" He heard a Cerberus soldier call, "Three men on me! It's the damn Talons!"

Who the 'Talons' were he had no idea, but he walked on regardless, stopping at a junction and leaning around the corner where he could see the trash bin. A Centurion rounded the corner first, followed by three more Troopers, just as the Centurion had called for. With a hand, the Centurion waved them forward to sweep the alley and the ODST smiled.

He set off the bomb just as they stepped past it, annihilating the building beside it and ripping a hunk out of the thick hull section beside it. The hull held, though, even as the building across from it collapsed, burying the _very_ dead soldiers under tons of metal and concrete. He left, then, leaving the soldiers to their panic and confusion and retreating to find a new vantage point to hit them from.

"Dow to _six_ , none and three." He amended his count as he went, holding his rifle comfortably across his chest and walking the alleys with the aid of his VISR's navigational systems. "Nine surprised, leaderless soldiers…"

Walking through the alley he came out on the plaza and rolled his shoulders, fingers flexing along the grip of his rifle. Surprise and shock was the best way he had to deal with them, and there was only one way in that would surprise them well enough. Taking long strides and watching the, for now, empty wall he walked forward.

Right towards the large, open main door into the compound proper.

Stepping through, he paused to look around. The barracks had been crushed under the weight of the building, and two Engineers milled about the wreckage aimlessly under a Trooper's supervision. Looking for salvage they could recover, he supposed. All three had their backs to him, though, and he sighed as his rifle came up. Three long bursts cracked through the air, ripping into their backs and sending them sprawling before anyone could react.

"Five." He grunted, stepping to the side as two more Troopers stepped out of the other, intact building and spotted him.

A small, chest high wall stretched along the inside of the greater wall, presumably for cover in the case of boarders attacking from the docking station. It provided ample cover for him, though, reloading the spent thermal clip and exchanging his rifle for his M7 in one hand as the two alternated suppressing bursts and advanced on him. Drawing his knife, he slipped his hand under the weapon and pressed his wrist against the foregrip to wait while the heavy footsteps closed on him.

"Surrender, you son-of-a bitch!" The first to reach him bellowed, but he ignored him and rose, twisting around the cover and rushing towards him.

The man opened fire, rounds sparking off his barriers, but the other couldn't fire without hitting his ally. Five rounds punched into his face and throat and the man gargled blood before the Krogan knife slammed in between armor sections. Using the blade for leverage instead of killing power, given the new breathing conditions the man had developed, he held the man like a shield.

"Bastard!" The other man snarled, bending and twisting for an angle before realizing his friend's fate and simply spraying rounds into the corpse and hoping to pierce.

His Hornet whined and hissed and John pushed the dead man off of him, leaving the knife in his chest to get a better grip on his own submachine gun. A short burst into the Trooper's throat ended him as it had the other, leaving him choking on the ground. For all their heavy helmets and plated armor, the throat was still rather open, so they could actually look around.

A deadly, necessary gap in their defenses.

"Three." He murmured, turning and sweeping the wall until he spotted them sprinting along it towards him, their little PDWs too inaccurate at range to try engaging. His M7 suffered a similar problem.

His Harrier, though, didn't. And he traded out the weapons out faster than they could run, sending rounds ripping through them as they tried to close with him. One slumped over the railing and fell, but the other two collapsed into the compound. There they lay still, but he let a pair of rounds loose to make sure before he turned towards the command building. Stopping outside the door, he collapsed the Harrier and set it on his back before rolling his shoulders and popping his neck.

Stepping through it he grunted as heavy rounds punched into his chest, sparking off his shield but hitting with enough force he grunted. The officer a young woman with short cut hair and hard eyes over set lips, snarled as he approached and barked two more rounds into his chest.

"Drop the weapon and I'll let you live." He offered as he crossed the office-like interior, one hand drawing his own sidearm as he went. She answered with two more rounds and he responded in kind, the shots punching holes in her sternum and tossing her back as he reached her. With a flick, he chucked another bomb onto the radio console and left.

"Begin docking at my section." He ordered quietly as he stepped into the docking station and began scanning for threats. Nothing in here would prevent docking, he knew, but he could deal with it for them. That way _they_ could deal with the response he knew was coming. Speaking of…

With a _whump_ and a tremor, he annihilated the Cerberus communications station. With a nod, he added, "I've eliminated Cerberus assets at the docking location. Expecting reinforcements, though."

"Understood, Insertion-Nine." A voice clipped in his ear, static-laced but clear enough to discern. "Assault craft closing on your coordinates. Please hold your location."

"Landing time?"

"Unknown. At least for sure." The radio handler responded tersely, likely handling a dozen such tasks at the moment. After a moment, he heard her hesitate and she added, "Uh, belay that, Lieutenant Commander. Assault craft for your location estimated time of arrival is fifteen minutes."

"...Understood." It was a surprising about face from what the handler had said, but he wasn't about to look the gift in the face. "Moving to ensure secure landing. Awaiting reinforcements as ordered."

She didn't answer, of course, likely simply noting his acknowledgement and moving on to the next call. All he had to do now, though, was find a comfy spot to catch a few minutes' nap, seeing as he'd finished sweeping the docking station. It struck him as rather empty, given the defenses outside, but he supposed that was to preempt the violence - and casualties - of someone forcing themselves through the hull and into the station.

But well, here he was with a gift horse again.

He heard and felt them dock far before anyone came to see him, sitting on a windowsill with his rifle across his chest. The tremors rocked up and down the building hard enough that the glass shook in its frame. Not evidence of a hard breach, he knew, but rather of _many_ of the assault and boarding craft docking at once. Outside, everything was quiet, the fires in the distance having long since been extinguished. By Cerberus or otherwise, he couldn't be sure, but either way the glow had died out and no attacks had come. All he could see was darkness, smattered by neon light.

A pretty sight, if he was honest.

Also terrifying, though. Because he knew that, soon enough, he'd be out there fighting through that inky blackness.

"Fan out and secure the perimeter!" He heard a man in more formal, Alliance armor bellow as he strode into the open.

Soldiers and mercenaries followed his command, mounting the wall and toting out crates of supplies. Some in lighter Alliance armor paused to look at the ruined section of building buried wall in amazement. Until, that is, a more veteran soldier shouted at them to get moving again. And moving they did, mounting the wall and holding their Avengers awkwardly.

"New recruits…?" These were supposed to be assault specialists, not raw recruits.

"Not recruits. Just their first assault like _this_ , against something like this." A voice grunted from behind him in a deep baritone, the ODST turning to look at the heavily armored man approaching him.

His armor was like Vega's was, with heavy plates and sections unlike what other Alliance soldiers, and his body matched as well. Thick, stocky, and cumbersome even though he moved with an ease that belied the strength he had to hold. He hadn't even removed his helmet, but that was probably intelligent of him, given where they were. 'Special Lieutenant Denbei' was stenciled across his chest in white lettering. What a 'Special Lieutenant' was, exactly, he didn't know.

But if he contested his rank then _he_ might be in charge, and he wasn't up for that.

"Before now, they were mostly just garrison forces, back in Tuchankan space." He explained, offering the ODST a hand to pull him to his feet. He took it and let the bear of a man tug him up, "Light Reaper contacts, came to them, that sort of thing. _This_ is a whole different beast, though."

"You can say that again…"

"They proved their worth out there." The man assured him simply, waving a hand at them outside and going on, "Part of the Liberation Corps. New army corps, for retaking occupied worlds and bodies. _This_ is their first outing under that name, hence the nerves."

"Hm." A test, then, for a military body dedicated to a _very_ important job. "Let's put their nerves at ease then, Special Lieutenant. Do you have orders for me?"

"More a directive than proper orders, if I'm honest, but…" The man's armored head nodded and he half-turned, gesturing down the hallway for him to follow. "Come with me. Let's talk, so we can get our job here done, and get on to the next one."

"Not home?"

"I'd think you knew better than that." The man chuckled darkly, "We go from one job to the next. Same as it's always been, isn't it?"

"Mhm. I know the idea, yeah." That had always been how it had been, back home against the Covenant, he supposed. One mission to the next, and don't put down roots or they'll end up _glass_. More _ash_ here and now, he supposed, but the sentiment seemed the same even if it _felt_ different. Instead of agreeing, he offered a simple, "Let's get it done, then. We have other jobs to get to."

The other man's only response was a quiet, wry chuckle.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 **Happy New Year everyone! Celebrate with festive explosions! Just like John did. XD**

 **In all seriousness, I hope you enjoy the chapter, though it feels a bit… Clunky to me, in places. Nothing terribly severe, of course. More me feeling overly critical, I feel like. Though I do have some difficulties conveying swiftly, but well, asymmetric warfare. End of the day, long as you all enjoy it, I'm happy.**

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Shiro Tsume :**_

 **Mehbe~**

 _ **Fox Comm :**_

 **I almost -** _ **almost**_ **\- tweaked my plans after reading that. But for continuity and by what he** _ **does**_ **, I have him doing his own thing elsewhere. Aria is off on the more show missions atm.**

 **There ARE black boxes, tho.**


	39. Operation Hades, Omega Part III

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

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"The district is secured and locked down, Admiral." Lieutenant Denbei reported when they had finished clearing the district of the Cerberus stragglers and returned to their base. "No major casualties or complications. Reporting from Charlie station to request further orders, Sir."

It had been set up right in the bones of the Cerberus one, in fact, for obvious reasons. Albeit after a _thorough_ security sweep for sensors, and repairs to the damages he'd caused. Outsidethey'd taken up residence in Cerberus' own barracks and cafeteria, though they'd set up their communication hub inside. Safe and sound, set up in a private waiting room on the top floor, right against the armored hull of the station. More sleeping quarters for officers - separated for indoctrination related concerns - had been spread out along the other private rooms and offices of the top floor.

With it secured, more soldiers and mercenaries had been docking amidst the battle outside, which was going well enough. For a slug fest, that was. But then all naval battles seemed to devolve to that, in this world and his old one both. It seemed to just be the nature of the beast, like how guns were used in both places.

But he forced his attention back to the mostly empty, cord covered and overly warm room.

"It's good to hear it." Hackett grunted quietly, eyes flicking to pay attention to something they couldn't see for a moment. He nodded and they saw him sign something on a datapad offered to him by someone who was invisible but for their hands and then moved on, "Offensives station-wide are grinding through Cerberus lines with only moderate difficulty, at least in the lower quarters."

"Not the higher ones though, Admiral?"

"No. Unfortunately not, but the details of that bring me to the reason I arranged this connection." At a wave a simplified map of Omega came into view, the bottom third lit in blue and the rest in red. A small green dot blinked to life where they were and the man explained, in brief, "As you can see, we've secured most of the base of the station. Their fleet presence outside is heavy, but so far they haven't decided to bombard it."

"Whatever they have wouldn't punch through the hull's armor anyway." Denbei grunted, hands clasped behind his waist and thumb working a circle on the outside of his hand. A nervous tick, and so the ODST ignored it. "And even if they did, Sir, then that would almost certainly compromise the station's integrity. Not a good plan if you want to use Omega as a staging point to hold the Relays."

"Our thoughts exactly, which is why we're not doing much unless we see them trying a boarding maneuver. And why we're fighting from the bottom of the station out here." Which wasn't a good place to be, that was sure. Most of the station's defenses didn't work well trying to fire _up_ , thanks to the curve of its own hull, so they could take as much as they wanted. But while the fleet matched their pace, they couldn't _contribute to that fight_. "We're dragging, though. What we need here is a _blitz_ , not a proper siege, or we'll get bogged down. And if that happens, there are seven kinds of hell that can come down on us."

"Reapers." He guessed, though it wasn't exactly a _leap_ to make the conclusion. "Or Cerberus reinforcements. Neither are things we want to deal with."

"Both of which are damn good reasons we can _not_ sit and wait while our forces grind each other down." Hackett said by way of agreement, grimacing and taking a breath before moving on and making his displeasure's reason clear as day. "All of my strategists and tacticians agree that we can't wait around here, grinding our lines against each other and pushing them back. We'll win, as things are, but…"

"But things won't stay that way." John guessed, earning a nod and then sighing tiredly. "You're going to try something with a lot less patience, aren't you, sir?"

"You don't approve?" The man asked with a small chuckle, a thin smile breaking his sharp veneer for the briefest moment. "I'd have thought that 'balls to the wall' was the one and only way your mind went, honestly.

"I do approve, actually, even if the Commander wouldn't. And yeah, my mind does tend to run along the same lines..." He chuckled at the man's amused snort, shaking his head wryly and letting out another sigh as the duo slid back into professionalism, at least for the moment. "What's the plan, then? I don't imagine you want us to exfiltrate and do another insertion."

"Nothing that dangerous, no." The man dismissed the idea easily, with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head. "Even if I wanted to, we don't have the insertion pods for it at the moment. We'd have to withdraw and resupply on them, or call on a supply run from a friendly system."

"The Geth could manage it, Sir." They were as industrious as the Rachni from what he'd seen and heard, and close enough to resupply them rapidly. They probably already were, for all he knew. Respectfully, and for the admittedly rather minute fear of offending the most powerful man in the system, he added, "Assuming you hadn't already thought of them, that is."

"Relax, son, my pride isn't so easily bruised. And besides, you aren't technically under my command anymore, since your adoption." Another chuckle and the man turned to the other in the room, who had thus far been quiet and simply watching them. Whether for dislike, awe or simple patience and knowing not to step into a minefield, John couldn't be sure. But he blamed a day of fighting for not considering it. Regardless, Hackett only grunted a small, "Forgive us, Special Lieutenant, we seem to have gotten off topic a bit."

"Nothing to forgive, Sir." The man answered quietly, voiced taut and edged in familiar energy. Awe and respect it was, then. "Everyone needs a moment to breathe and relax sometimes. I won't begrudge either of you a couple words of it. We should focus, though, even if no one minds it."

"Good man. And right too, besides." The Admiral nodded, turning back to the task at hand with a bit more finality. Firmly and with his military edge back, but still echoing the fatigue that had led them into their little digression, the man explained, "My strategists and I have decided to stage a systematic, station-wide assault along all combat lines. Orders are going out through regular channels to start it at six hundred tomorrow. Mercenaries and Coalition forces both, and we're using contacts Aria… _Found_ elsewhere to get on-station support as well."

"So what is our job then?" He asked, the older man raising an eyebrow in response. "The line to the Admiral isn't a standard channel, sir. You're contacting us personally and that means you have something special, our ears only, in mind."

"You know me too well, it seems Lieutenant Commander. And the apple hasn't fallen far from the redheaded tree either, it would seem." He could only really shrug at that and the old admiral chuckled, giving another amused, wry shake of his old, scarred head. With a sigh, he explained, "I want you to lead a small team into Cerberus territory and attempt to move to coordinates I will give you near Aria herself. Move quietly, and avoid exposure at all costs. You will have twelve hours to get to near enough where she is and, once with her, you will lead an assault with her mercenaries and local gangs to retake Afterlife. There you will hopefully find and be able to capture General Petrovsky, the officer in charge of the siege and occupation."

"Hm." A spearhead maneuver, thrusting straight into the heart of the station in both a symbolic and a literal sense. If he was stationed there, then their command chain would feed through it, and thus be crippled with their taking it and the general. But that posed a question, "What are your orders regarding Petrovsky, sir? How should he be handled?"

"Assuming of course that you have a say in the matter." Denbei pointed out dryly, choosing then to step in, "We should take him alive if at all possible. Interrogation alone would be a substantial boon."

"Assuming of course that he _can_ be taken captive at all, that is." He pointed out, amused at the admittedly petty humor of reusing the phrase. A tiny and dumb thing that probably shouldn't have amused him, but there it was. Ignoring the silliness of it, he went on, "Cerberus infantry have internal explosive devices that kill them when taken captive. Who is to say he doesn't as well?"

"I doubt he'd allow it." Denbei answered simply, though with a small shake of his head. He hadn't been so simply amused as he had, then. Oh well, you really couldn't win them all, and it _had_ been a silly thing to find funny. "Reports have shown that high ranking officers, like generals, tend not to have been subjected to the normal levels of synthetic Cerberus indoctrination."

"Capture him if possible." Hackett ordered simply, easily cutting the back and forth off with the simple words. The two men snapped back to him, shoulders straight, and he nodded. "If we can get our hands on him, he'll be an invaluable source of information. Further, you are to assist her in disabling the plasma-barriers our forces are finding in the higher levels."

"Plasma, sir?"

"I don't know how they've managed it either, Doe, but our scientists are chomping at the bit to get a chance to study them." Hackett answered simply, shrugging his uniformed shoulders in a way that very clearly said he didn't much care how they got the technology. "According to Aria, they were deployed in the higher strata to defend the station. Primarily around the highest levels at first, and then descending down. We stopped them spreading throughout the station, but it is likely that you will encounter them as you go forward."

"Understood, Sir." And wasn't that a _great_ discovery. If Cerberus was developing plasma, though, he was worried about what would happen if the technology was left alone. "Do we have a method of engagement for them?"

"Don't walk through the barriers and blow one of the generator poles producing the field." Hackett responded simply in the way military men did. Short and blunt, with little care for elaboration beyond what was needed. "Your first mission after rendezvousing with Aria will be to disable the reactor junction powering all of them. Forces in your district are thus ordered to begin skirmishing now, to cover your crossing. As are allied forces in a dozen other districts."

"Understood, Sir." Recon to find it and then simple sabotage. Right up his alley, then, and something he was geared for. "The generator is mostly likely their own design. It should be obvious comparatively, with the state of Omega's own technology."

"And heavily guarded, of course." The Lieutenant added, in what sounded like a helpful voice. "Their best forces, and probably near the top, where they had the best ground. For holding, for building, whatever the case, it'll be obvious and entrenched."

"Understood, Sir." He'd already surmised as much himself, of course, but the man was only trying to help. And you didn't spit on help. "I'll keep an eye out and get it dealt with if at all possible. When do I leave, Admiral?"

"Immediately, son. Immediately, because we can't delay your meeting Aria." The man answered, voice tight with dislike and resignation. The kind that had the ODST already sighing, resigned in the same way as the Admiral. "The last resupply carried stimulants and emergency rations that will keep you going under special protocol."

"Understood, Sir." He snapped a salute and the Admiral, no doubt needed elsewhere, cut their connection. As the blue hologram faded the room's whiter lights took over, stinging the edges of his tired peripheries but otherwise not bothering him. Turning to the special lieutenant he added quietly, "Where will my supplies be, Sir?"

"Your bunk room." The man said snappily, turning to follow him out of the room and into a hallway, past the two guards at the door. As they walked, passing by busy officers and soldiers toting supplies, weapons or furniture from wherever it had come from to wherever it was needed, he went on, "I'll have ammunition and a restock on your explosives brought to you while you eat. Alongside orders on where you're to cross during the feint assault."

"Understood." And with the he turned to leave, aiming to get some time off his feet and with his eyes closed before he had to leave. Not a lot of time, of course, but some. And who _really_ needed more than half an hour of sleep and some stims?

Certainly not a Helljumper.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

His down time wound up being around an hour and some change, while men and women scarfed down their own food and stims and plans were made and then disseminated. The loud clattering of boots on the ground and equipment being moved didn't _exactly_ equate to a good nap, but an hour or so with his eyes closed while stims filtered through his body and his rations processed was better than nothing. Not much so, of course, but still. Better than _absolutely_ nothing.

Some didn't even get this out there, now, so he wouldn't complain.

"Lieutenant Commander." A guard was waiting outside his door when his alarm told him it was time to get up and mobile once again. She was small, lithe, and fully armored with a new looking Avenger across her chest. She snapped a crisp salute and he returned it, waiting to hear what she had to say, "Orders, Sir. You're with my unit for the assault. I was sent to get you."

"Ah." he could have simply been sent a message and found his own way there, but it didn't matter in the end. Not really, at least. With a wave and a shrug, he ordered, "Lead the way then, ma'am."

The Shiny - his word for someone with clean and clearly new armor, and thus not someone that had seen much deployment - gave a curt nod and gestured for him to follow her. Following her, they meandered through halls stacked high with crates and bunks, the barracks outside not enough to compensate for the additional mass of the men and women that had been brought in ahead of the assaults. Here, like he assumed everywhere else was at this point, crates had been stacked wherever possible and beds had been fit in in much the same way. Hammocks hung between high stacks, blankets and pillows had been spread across the tops of crates and in more than one location, little alcoves had been formed around balconies with blankets sectioning them off. Through the gaps he saw the insides of canvas tents pitched on the balconies and filled with even more crates, cots and weapon racks.

Impressive and depressing in two very different, but connected, ways.

Outside, Makos and other tanks he couldn't recognize trundled around the wall like school buses, stopping at the gate for their assigned forces to load into the crew compartments and then trundling off. Smaller craft, like a Krogan vehicle that looked like a motorcycle with treads rather than wheels and a rear gun mount, flanked them for escort duty as they zipped off. The taller buildings around the base were also swarming with activity, be it entrenchment or soldiers and supplies boarding gunships and Kodiak shuttles.

The perks of capturing a larger, more freight oriented space-dock was the ability to bring in armor. Maybe that was why he'd been directed roughly to this district, honestly, though he questioned why he'd been sent alone.

"Here we are! Lancer company." The woman crowed energetically as they joined her unit, loitering beside the main gate and seemingly waiting for them to get there.

Around a dozen men and women of several species. Asari and Human mainly, though with a hulking Krogan in the back leaning against the wall. It saw him looking and bowed its great head, but didn't say anything. A greeting enough for a Krogan, he supposed. The rest greeted him with a flurry of 'hellos' and the like that he returned, but no one seemed eager for a sit down session to share names and backgrounds with someone only temporarily embedded with them.

Sensible, he supposed, even if it left him feeling a bit put out.

"Lancer Company!" The small woman snapped suddenly in what had to be her best impression of a drill sergeant, dragging helmet-covered azes around to them, faces only just visible beyond their visors. She jerked her head towards the gate out and snapped a final, "Now we have our guest with us, it's time to load up. Get your gear, and grab a Mako seat. If another squad is loading up, make them move, we have priority order."

"Why's that?" The Salarian nearest to them asked, turning to retrieve a collapsed Vindicator.

"Dunno." The woman answered, abandoning her attempt to play the drill sergeant and shrugging more simply and honestly, acting more like he suspected she generally was. In a way, she reminded him of Shepard with her exuberance, untempered as yet by what was coming. "But this guy," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at him, stood behind her and with his Harrier across his chest, "has orders attached that gives him priority. Top tier orders, too. Kind that come from the Admiral or the Coalition Council. So get your gear and get in a tank, ladies, gentlemen and various sized Krogan."

That earned a quiet round of chuckles as the soldiers gathered their gear and stepped out. Another unit had half-loaded into a Mako, flanked by a couple Krogan bikes, but the young woman saw to that quickly enough. A brief shouting match erupted from tense soldiers, but a quick pull of his rank and ancillary allowances ended it, aside from sour looks and quiet grumbling. Soon after, they were loaded up onto it and, aside from a minor delay to them and their allies waiting in line behind them, they were on their way without any problems.

Well, minus the 'headed into a warzone' problem, of course, but that was a matter of course for him.

"We're here. Krak, Levanas, you're out first. Sweep the area with the biker boys and then we'll unload." The woman, a corporal apparently but somehow already in charge of her own squad, ordered crisply. "Orders from the top, we have to protect the Lieutenant Commander, in the interests of Operation Hades."

A small chorus of grunted 'Ma'ams' echoed through the interior of the Mako, from even the pilot and the gunnery officer sitting at the turret controls. His voice didn't join them, not particularly enthused about being babysat even for the moment. But as they filed out he nodded to the Asari and pounded a fist to his breast for the Krogan. The latter, at least, hesitated before returning his gesture. Caught off guard by the display of respect from someone technically his superior, the Warrior added a deep inclination of his head to the gesture before he left, baring the side of his head to the smaller man.

A sign of respect and admiration, he knew from his reading material, sent to him by the slowly reforming Krogan priesthood. He'd not gotten any of it until boarding the _Everest_ , of course, and so it had been stockpiled in his accounts and files. Once aboard the ship, though, and with nothing to do...

Well, he'd had time to do the reading and then some.

A few minutes passed before a heavy, meaty fist banged on the door outside and the corporal grunted a quiet, "All's clear. Load out, and prepare to stage the assault on the bulkheads. Ten minutes to launch."

At her words, they did so, with him waiting at a signal until the others had all unloaded and spread out. Then he followed, stepping into the dimly lit streets of a more cramped and slummy looking quarter of the district. The buildings were squat, poorly maintained and, in places, looked on the verge of outright collapse, teetering over the streets around them. High overhead a gunship circled, providing them their aerial recon and dropping soldiers off on the surrounding buildings as fallback defenders, for if their attack failed and Cerberus countered. An outcome whose likelihood was unfortunately high, given the real reason behind his attendance was to desert the line as soon as they broke through.

He disliked that part of the plan but orders were orders, after all, and good soldiers followed orders.

The road ended in a steep wall that climbed high into the purely proverbial sky and vanished out of sight, spindled by landing pads buzzing with gunships dropping off units to breach there. Catwalks, ladders and even outright buildings pockmarked the high wal that divided the massive station compartments and in places he could already make out the muted flash of rifle fire where battles had already sparked. At the end of their street a high, curved arch held an indented door like a bank vault, sealed and heavily armored. Lancer Company was already filtering towards it with the Mako's heavy cannon oriented on it.

"Alright boys and girls, get ready for us to pop the-"

The corporal's words were cut off as the massive vault door surged toward them suddenly, grinding out with the sound of metal on metal and grinding gears. The woman barked an order to instead prepare as the door slid open and they fanned out, the squad sprinkling itself behind parked cars or the corners of buildings. He himself took cover behind the tank, Harrier ready and eyes hard.

"Hold fire until you confirm your targets!" The corporal ordered, kneeling behind a car a dozen feet ahead of him. "Focus on officers as you locate them and watch for Phantoms and Dragoons! They'll flank and rip us apart if we let them!"

Dragons, he knew from more of the reading material, were a Biotic assault unit more dedicated to the front line than Phantoms. Though they were apparently rarer, and he hadn't had the fortune of fighting any, he'd read enough in the reports he'd been given to be wary of them. But he felt confident that the Mako's heavy cannon would make short work of them. Man-sized Biotic barriers didn't tend to hold up well against heavy mass accelerators or heavy machine guns.

Before the door even opened, though, they heard the feral howling and shrieking.

"Reapers!?" The corporal's shout was equal part warning and terrified question as clearly synthetic blue arms gripped at the edged and bulbous bodies pulled themselves through the spreading gap. Several stumbled forward awkwardle on fleshy, meaty legs, hissing and chittering as they went, and she ordered, somewhat needlessly, "Open fire!"

Adjutants - he'd read of them in Aria's own information packets, detailing the initial fall of Omega - scrambled forward as their rifles tore into them. Blackened blood sprayed as the dozen or so creatures' in the front line's barriers sparked and fell, and the heavy _thump_ of the Mako cannon sent three spiraling in a dozen chunks through the air. Then their arms snapped up and electric balls of Eezo, or what looked like it, sparked across the area.

"Gah!" One of the soldiers, the Salarian from before, barked as the round bit into him. Initially he staggered back, coughing as he was forced from cover, but then he was wrenched _forward_. Past his fellows and into the line of the Reapers, disappearing under them with a howl of pain that the synthetics matched, some turning to carry him back while the rest pushed on.

"Veeran!" The corporal cried, standing taller and firing into the mass, trying her best to reach him.

"Explosives going out!" The ODST howled, loping forward with several of the heavy detonators in his hand.

The charges sailed through the air and landed among the mass as an Eezo round hurled him onto his back. Before it could wrench him forward, though, he set them off. Fire and wind rushed past him as the howling was washed away. Though the din of mass accelerator fire never stopped, even as he staggered up and looked to the fire that had washed the doorway clean of Reapers.

"Forward!" The Corporal ordered snappily, not one to waste the opening he had bought them. "Mako front, sweeping arc of fire! Biotics to the fore, get a barrier up to ward off incoming fire!"

The soldiers snapped off a chorus of 'Ayes' that this time he joined, forming up along with the company behind the tank as it pushed forward. The next leg of the assault of Omega was under way and, apparently, the Adjutants were still on the station. That, he imagined, would _infuriate_ Aria once she found out. Which was all well and good, he figured.

Because it had pissed him off too.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Apologies for the late update today, birthday last week threw off my writing shifts a little bit.**_


	40. Operation Hades - Omega Part IV

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Their unit, sprinkled closely around the heavily armored tank and the protection of its heavy cannon, made it all of ten steps before the smoke and fire cleared enough for the Reapers to push through it. The fire, with nothing to feed it beyond steel that understandably didn't exactly burn all that well, died out quickly enough. The smoke from the explosion and subsequent short-lived fire had combined well with the heavy cannon and machine gun fire to keep them disoriented for the few short moments they had all been in full swing. During which only a handful of the creatures shambled through the smoke intact enough to be alive, only to be cut down by concentrated rifle fire from their formation.

Apt rewards, in his opinion, for their no doubt _very_ hard work.

As it dissipated, though, the creatures found their way through more easily, strange biotic rounds flying around them. Their Asari, a natural Biotic as all her species were, climbed atop the tank to project a bubble around them protectively, standing behind its turret as the tank trundled forward and carried her and the bubble of safety with them. Pushing forward to the edge of the bubble, and standing shoulder to shoulder, they poked their rifles through to fire from safety and cut their way through the monstrosities.

For a few long moments, the creatures simply shambled forward to fire on them, seemingly not understanding why their shots didn't have any effect on their targets. Hissing, chittering and, ultimately, dying, they kept up their barrage. Biotic-electric blasts landed on the Asari's barrier and sparked around them in what would have been a beautiful light-show at any other time. Now, though, with biotic fire pockmarking scant inches from his face pulling holes in the barrier that only lived for seconds before resealing, he couldn't see the beauty in the display.

None of them could, he was sure.

Their attention was drawn instead to the Reapers who bayed for blood and were cut down by lines of lancing accelerator fire. The cannon thundered between the Coalition's finest and an explosion rocked them, hurling hunks of Adjutant and concrete skyward. As the smoke cleared they spotted a gap in their ranks, and few standing Reapers as well, and the Corporal raised her hand to signal them forward.

"Break through and reform on the other side of the gate!" She ordered, leading the charge as the tank jerked forward and the bubble fell, the Asari unable to maintain it at speed.

Something about the order made him uneasy, but as the squad moved forward with the tank, he followed. Resistance at the gate itself was light, a handful of Adjutants lashing out from around corners as they passed by which were easily cut down, their desperate ambush less a 'lethal trap' and more a 'desperate gasp'. The street ahead of them mirrored the one they had passed, save for the couple dozen milling and retreating Adjutants. As before, the Coalition forces opened fire, mass accelerator rounds carving through flesh and steel in a hail.

Most of the Reapers didn't even get to turn before their barriers were overloaded and their armor ripped apart.

"Spread out, and form a perimeter!" The corporal ordered as silence began to reign, looking for something and growing angry for failing to find it. As her squad spread out around the tank, forming a perimeter to defend the point from, she called out, "Veeran? Veeran, if you're out there, report!"

"Corporal, Reapers took him." The woman gave him a sidelong look, eyes narrowed behind her visor, and he shook his head. The meaning was clear, as was her understanding, the woman turning a glare on the ground. Awkwardly, he gave her a pat on the shoulder and added, "I'm sorry, for what it's-"

"Corporal!" The Krogan's voice boomed, "It's Veeran, he's alive!"

The two soldiers exchanged a surprised, and wary, glance before they moved towards the friendly voice. The tank move dup with them as they advanced the scant couple of yards to where the Krogan was standing beside an alley, using the armored vehicle's heavy gun to give them cover.

Inside the alleyway they found the haggard Asari formerly responsible for their Barrier bubble huddled over the wounded, _badly_ bleeding Salarian. Green blood had long since stained his armor a sickly green. The same green blood that was currently staining the ground around him, running in rivulets from his partially torn throat and the stump that had once been his left arm to pool around him. Huge chunks of armor, and the meat beneath it, had been ripped off as well, adding to the rivers streaming down his body. His helmet had been ripped off along with part of his head and _all_ of one of his horns, and then smashed into the wall beside him with enough force to have crushed even armor plating.

And yet, he breathed, gurgling a weak, "H-Help…"

"We got you." The corporal answered, giving the Asari currently trying to stem the bleeding a nod and turned back to the tank, calling out past him, "We need medical here! Get the field kit out of the tank!"

Kneeling, he laid a hand on the wounded alien's head and turned it, using a thumb to peel open an eye. A green eye looked back at him, hazy and strangely luminescent, and he asked, "Did the Adjutants do this?"

"The wha-?"

"The Adjutants." He asked louder, leaning in closer and earning a demanding 'hey!' from the Asari trying to tend to him. "The Reaper forces we were fighting. They swarmed you and dragged you away. Did they do this to you?"

"Who the hell else would have?" He gave the Asari a look, visor impassive, and she shook her head and held her hands up in faux-surrender.

"What are you getting at?" The corporal asked quietly at his side, standing over him while he knelt by the Salarian.

"Adjutants infect those they attack." He answered, listening to the delirious unfortunate ramble about having 'fucked up' and 'gotten got by the bastards'. Standing, he shook his head as another of the squad joined them, toting a heavy triage kit. "Drag them away, rip 'em up, and leave them alive. After a little while they… Change."

"Bullshit." The Asari defended, looking down on her damned squad-mate. With a heavy frown, she looked back to him, "Shit like that can't be real."

Contrary to her words, the wounds scored across his body were steeping, limbs twitching oddly. Blood tinged blue ran from his wounds, which slowed in their bleeding and began to themselves turn sickly grey. He peeled an eye back, again, and was met by blue rather than green. Dimly luminescent even as he murmured incoherently, delirious for pain or suffering under the change in his brain bringing out the sounds.

Not something he fancied thinking about, for the sake of his being able to _sleep_ any time soon.

"Skin is greying, eyes have changed color, muscular spasming along the limbs…" He gave the Asari a look, hand leaving its place gripping the front of his rifle and crossing his chest to rest on the handle of his knife. "He's dead or soon will be and worse. A _Husk_."

"No… No I…" Whatever the Salarian was trying, through his haze, to say died in a hiss as his body spasmed.

Its head rolled to the side, grey skin creeping up its neck and horn twisting to the side and in, towards his forehead like the other Adjutants. The Salarian face winced, teeth bared as it hissed in pain and a hand lashed out, weakly smacking against the ODST's armored thigh uselessly, though he brought the leg back and away for safety regardless. He was _turning_ , as old school horror movie as it sounded to think. Frankly, it _looked_ as old school horror movie as it sounded.

His Krogan knife stopped a quarter of the way out of is sheath, a Krogan hand around his wrist to blame. He met the large alien's gaze and it shook its head, "We'll deal with him. You need to get out of here, before more Reapers show, Maw-Bringer." He nodded and the Krogan turned, shouting back, "Back on perimeter!"

The tank didn't move but, hesitantly, the squad that had been slowly filtering closer spread back out to reform their defenses. Giving the Corporal and the Salarian a last look, he pushed his knife back home and nodded. He knew when he wasn't wanted, and knew better than to force the issue. Turning, he went to the Mako to restock on ammunition and then, without another word, he took his leave.

Ten minutes of silence passed in a tense slog, creeping through alleys as was his wont, he heard a distant crack. He paused for a moment, listening as more gunshots began to rattle off. With them came screams and the strange whiz-bang of the Biotic shots of the Adjutants, who, coming from other battles they had won or elsewhere in the district, had come down on the squad and their armored support, fighting to hold the opening. For themselves, for allies that would retreat to them or come to help them push, it didn't matter.

Whether the first shot had been to give mercy to the soon-to-be Adjutant or not, he couldn't begin to know, but for a moment he considered turning back to support them. For a moment, but he had his orders, and so he shook it off and adjusted his rifle across his chest.

"Aria's more important." He grunted, slinking down the alleyway with his VISR pinging, looking for motion and heat more than anything.

Whatever the Adjutants really were or where they came from, _neither_ of which had been in the reports he'd read, they didn't seem to take sides. As he made his way through the district, he passed dozens of Cerberus defensive structures. Barricades, checkpoints, even an out and out _base_ built in a huge open courtyard of some kind. Adjutant bodies were piled along the streets in any direction that wasn't _up_ , andmounded against the walls. Sections of the off-white plating had been ripped away in places and bodies and debris had been mounded against the walls in others, and _both_ with the feral intelligence of the Reapers.

Piles of their own dead or holes ripped and blown in the walls of their target's defences, made for the Adjutants to get in.

Atop the wall were more Adjutants, bent over the walls where they'd died, but no Cerberus corpses. An arm here, a leg there and, in one case, a head laid on the hood of a car outside the wall. But no full _bodies_.

"Turned." He decided, feeling a pang of the same kind of sympathy he already felt for the warped soldiers echo in the back of his mind. He pushed it aside, though, and instead turned his attention to the _other_ oddity. A very pressing concern, to his mind, "Where are the civilians, though?"

Dead and turned into more Adjutants or, equally bad in a lot of ways given Cerberus' reputation, _evacuated_. Whether that was elsewhere on the station, off of it before the attack was underway, or even if it _mattered_ , he wasn't sure. Whatever the case, it meant that making his way through the district was a decidedly safe and simple endeavor. Deceptively so, with the distant din of gunfire echoing behind and above him, and the echoing howls of the Reapers.

None of which was his problem, for once, even if, also for once, he wished it was. He wasn't one to enjoy running from a fight at the best of times. Nonetheless, he busied himself with sweeping the alleys and streets he passed into and through, wary of traps and ambushes. Cerberus, Reaper, hell, even local resistors, it didn't matter. Mister grenade was only your friend part of the time and missus landmine hated _everyone_ equally, as his sergeant had always said. Personally, he didn't understand some people's habit of humanizing weaponry whose _use_ was self-destructive.

He'd been wise enough to keep that to himself, though, unlike one unfortunate trooper hopeful that had very swiftly learned what _speech discipline_ was.

Sweeping a last street towards the section of hull he'd been designated to get to, the sounds of conflict grew louder and he sighed. Checking his ammunition one last habitual time, and of course found the same thermal clip he'd loaded fresh when he left, before he took a deep breath and advanced. Cerberus defences passed by in utter devastation for another block before the gunfire became the roar he was used to. With it came something he was less used to, and glad for it.

The hissing and snarling of too many Adjutants, and the explosions of Biotic attacks reacting violently with other Biotic elements. Barriers, bubbles, hurled explosive power, all echoed with and against the more static Reaper whip-bang and sizzle of the Adjutant's Biotics. He had trouble recognizing the Adjutant's attacks, but he could recognize the sounds of Warp detonations and the crackling of Biotic attacks sizzling across barrier bubbles as he ran to join the fight, and hoped to whatever gods existed that Aria was still alive.

He had his orders, after all, and he _hated_ failing to meet his objectives.

Around one last bend he caught sight of sickly grey backs and skidded to a stop behind an old, rusted car. They hadn't noticed him and he rose to get a look for it, knowing he was safe for the moment. A couple dozen of the creatures swarmed the street, two in the back projecting the others with their own, electric blue barrier bubble, enemy rounds sparking off it and Biotic attacks cracking loudly as they struck and went through the normal violent feedback loop.

"Since when did they have stationary projected barriers?" The ones they had fought hadn't, but maybe it was something to do with those who had been turned. Mercenaries or soldiers might have known how, and though the thought disturbed him, it was possible the information had been ripped out by the Reapers.

Not a comforting thought, to say the least.

Beyond them mercenaries and Alliance soldiers were fighting their hardest from Cerberus fortifications, standing atop walls and firing down on the Reapers. Inside the moment he paused to look and adjust himself, raising his rifle to aim from behind the relative cover of the car, he saw the well-known dark armor of Alliance special forces, bold red stripes down the arms, sprinkle across the wall to reinforce it. Alliance N7 forces meant he was in the right place, near Aria's fighting line.

One of the red-striped solders were ripped off in the brief moment where he reached the top of the wall but didn't have cover and hadn't looked out to see the enemy's layout and sent sailing high through the air, over the Reaper line. He landed on his stomach and rolle dover, cradling one arm while the other snapped up his rifle, spraying Avenger fire at the approaching Reapers as accurately as he could. One fell before the weapon ran dry and he dropped it, scrambling back on his uninjured arm while the Adjutants rushed to swarm him and add to their numbers.

Not on his watch, to say the gods damn least.

Rising, he belted rounds into the side of the nearest Reaper, surprising it and sending it staggering into its fellows awkwardly. "This way!" He bellowed, stepping out of cover and spraying another burst into the Reaper and sending it sprawling and dead, "I have you covered!"

The N7 didn't hesitate for a moment, scrambling up and sprinting towards him, wounded arm pressed tight to his side. He slide by the ODST and into an alleyway, taking cover behind the corner, and drew his Predator, calling a clipped, "Thanks!"

"Charges going out." He warned, watching several of the Reapers turn to rush them and rolling a handful of detonators in his hand.

Hurling them high, they sailed over the rushing reapers and exploded, sending those attacking him and the defenders sprawling across the ground. Short bursts ended them and he stepped out of cover once more, putting long bursts into the lightly armor backs of those attacking his allies in the Cerberus base. Two fell before a Biotic _cannonball_ slammed into the ground, an Asari wreathed in fire hurling one through a wall before grabbing another by the horn and ripping it off along with its head. A third rushed her and she spun, slamming the long horn through its face and then punting it into yet another Adjutant, crushing _both_ against the armored wall of the Cerberus base.

The last Reaper, seeing the fate of its fellows, rushed him instead. In answer he sent short bursts towards its knees, sparking off Biotic protection and armor but slowing it. Taking a step back he adjusted his grip, stock of the rifle pressed into his abdomen while his off hand reached across his chest t grip his knife. It leapt and he snarled, wrenching the knife out and, in one smooth motion, swiping across its face.

It snarled in pain and rage and slammed into him, arms closing around him and crushing as it dragged him down to maul him. He grunted as his back slammed into the floor, the Reaper's weight more than enough to drive the air from his lungs and his rifle trapped between them. It roared and he rolled his eyes, inverting the knife in his hand and punching it to the side, into its throat. Its hiss died in a wheeze as thick, black and brackish blood splashed across his breastplate.

He twisted the knife in, back and up, and the creature went still, claws pierced partially through his undersuit goin still as it died, nearly decapitated and _completely_ dead. A hand grabbed the creature and threw it aside with enough force it cracked into the wall of a nearby building, leaving him on his back with his knife in his hand and blood on his chest.

"About time you joined me, _Sand Swimmer_." He sighed at the cocky voice but took the offered hand anyway, letting her tug him up and to the side, to avoid the Reaper ichor on him falling on her. Aria smirked at him as he slammed his knife home, before she cocked a hip, and jerked her head towards the damages he'd caused. "Not bad, though. For someone without Biotics, at least. And oh! You saved a babysitter, too? How quaint."

"Hm." The soldier was wounded, and he made his displeasure at her disrespect clear, ignoring her to turn and speak to him instead. Ignoring her affronted and somehow simultaneously amused grunt, he asked, "What's your status, trooper?"

"Broken arm, fractured rib, and egg on my face." He grunted amid the static cracking of shots sounding off to end the last of the Adjutants nearby. Wounded but not dead or simply the last of the pack that had attacked them, it was all the same. With a grunt of effort, he straightened and shook his head, "I'll head for medical, Sir, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead."

"Good idea." The Asari gave him a look and he sighed, shaking his head and gesturing for the man to get on his way. Once he'd limped by, his leg or hip apparently hurt as well, he turned back to the Asari warlord. She met his gaze with a hand on her hip and a scaled brow raised and he grunted, "You're alive." After a moment he added, "Highness."

"Pretty damn disrespectful to someone that just saved your ass." She accused him, smiling thinly, teeth bared like a predator showing its fangs in challenge.

He chose not to correct her and point out he had already killed it when she 'helped' him but instead kept his peace, wiping the worst of the ichor off idly and waiting for her to move on. The blood had left his armor stained, of course, and he sighed for it. But there was nothing to do about it, and Aria was quick to move on a he'd hoped, not really being one for _patience_ , like he'd bet.

A safe bet, to say the very least, but a bet nonetheless.

"Adjutants got out all over the damn district, here. Fuck knows how..." She started quietly, nodding her head towards the formerly Cerberus base and turning to head towards it, expecting him to follow her. Sighing, she walked with him, "They're everywhere, though. Attack in waves, like they're gauging us and then backing off."

"Hunting." He grunted, "And learning."

"The Biotic bubbles." Aria nodded as they stepped into the cramped, busy outpost. The mercenaries and soldiers both gave them a wide enough berth while they passed through, headed for an ammunition dump to reload. "Noticed that, too, yeah. Bastard's learned it fighting us, that's for damn sure. They didn't do it before I got forced off the station, I'd remember it."

While they talked and walked, the other soldiers busied themselves with preparing for the next attack or escorting the wounded out of the outpost and back, through the district to rest and be tended to more safely. A scant handful of blocks, from what he could see without knowing the full context of the perimeter inside the district, but still a safer place than here, with Husks trying to get in and rip them to pieces.

Or worse, _recruit them_.

"What's the plan?" He asked as he knelt to replace his used up thermal clip, reloading his rifle as he did. He spotted a rag and grabbed it as well, turning to sit down on a low, empty crate while he cleaned the gore from his knife and rifle. "With the Adjutants loose, Cerberus will either be entrenching in the upper districts, or bolstered by their numbers. Depending."

"On?" She asked with a climbing brow.

"I don't know, for sure." He shrugged, turning his rifle over in his hands to check its systems. Finding it in good shape he traded it for his knife, doing the same pattern of wipes and turning it over in his hands to check its edge, "But we know they're experimenting with artificial indoctrination and augmentation. Is it possible that these are some part of Cerberus' forces?"

"They killed plenty of Cerberus troopers out here, though. 'Sides, they didn't make the Adjutants, I know that for sure." She pointed out, quiet for once. Crossing her arms, she leaned back and stared up at the high ceiling, towering impossibly high above them. "Cerberus unearthed the Adjutants, they didn't make 'em. And that rat ass bastard Oleg hates them, too. He wouldn't _use_ them."

"Even if he had to?"

"I hate the bastard, but…" She shook her head and sighed, "But he wouldn't use the Adjutants willingly- Someone get me some damn rations!" Her sudden bellow made the mercenaries near her flinch, a wiry Asari running over nervously with a fistful of ration bars that the warlord snatched away, shooing the anxious woman away and turning back to him. "He wouldn't use the damn Adjutants if someone had a gun on his old ass head, so something is going down up there."

"Something?" That was simultaneously a simple and ominous way of putting it, he felt. She only shrugged and he sighed, sliding his knife back into its sheath quietly. "That's not good… At all."

"Nope." The woman grunted, for once seeming a bit human in a way. She shook it off quick, though, with a shrug and the snap of the wrappers around her protein bars, ripping a hunk off and grunting agitatedly while she ate.

If the Reapers were really wild, and uncontained on the station, it would match what he'd seen. But if the Reapers were running loose, it added a whole 'nother shade to the problem. One he wasn't quite sure he could resolve easily, if he was honest.

"If I had to guess, though, I'd say a good deal of ripping and tearing is going to be involved." Distant howls and the echoing crack of rifle fire and explosions began to break the silence, as though answering her. With a tired sigh, the two stood and rolled their shoulders. "Time to get started, I guess. Reinforcements are five hours out, and we push when they get here. Have fun out there, _Sand Swimmer_ , and try not to get killed. "

"Highness." He nodded, stepping by to climb a ramp onto the perimeter wall and look for a place to stand. A Krogan, standing behind a Human woman like a building towering over her protectively, saw him and waved him forward to give him space to stand. He grunted a thank you and they both murmured their responses.

It was going to be a long few hours, he could already tell that much for sure.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Batman 9117**_

 **Thanks!**

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 **I sneak them in from time to time. XD**


	41. Operation Hades - Omega Part V

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Instinct cried out a warning and he ducked under the hot, crackling Biotic rounds that soared through the space he'd just been in. More followed behind it, slamming into the wall he was hidden behind and an unfortunate medic that had been running along the back of the walkway to whatever cause he had been needed for. He floated up and back, flailing as he soared high into the air, towards the ceiling of Omega's district. He spared the medic a thought of sympathy while he slammed a fresh thermal clip home but couldn't afford any more, standing and seeking a target in the same fluid moment, the world watering down to what he could see down the sight of his rifle.

An Adjutant stepped clear of a car laying on its side, crackling blue, and his rounds ripped into it. Short bursts into its knees and feet that staggered it under the force, its Barriers able to block the round but not all of the kinetic force behind them. Two more bursts downed its protections and a third found its face, the abomination collapsing as another took its place. It lasted only a moment before a Biotic blast slammed into the car, sending it screeching away along the road and crushing a dozen of the blighted creatures as it went.

"Hah, fuckers!" Aria called, taking a knee beside him to catch her breath for a moment. The kindly Krogan and his Human friend had long since moved to other parts of the wall to fight, leaving her the space.

He ducked down to evade a handful of biotic cannonballs that whistled over his head, one yanking a soldier off the wall behind him and hurling him away at high speed and she smiled. He sighed and stood to pepper the area with a couple more bursts before kneeling again, slamming home a new thermal clip and grunting, "Gettin' thin in their center flank."

"Should be." She nodded, "With all the other fights and this one too? Must've killed half the district by now."

"Mhm." He didn't like how flippant she was over such loss given just how many they'd killed in the last hour of fighting.

He vented the agitation into aggression, though, standing and seeking out another target with hawkish precision. As it fell another stepped into the same spot, his round ripping into its Barrier until a Biotic cannonball from further afield caught it in it stomach, sending it tumbling through the air in two halves trailing ichor and organs alike. Its heavyset top slammed down on another of its kind, killing it too, and he heard Aria chuckle at the sight. He simply shrugged it off, cycling to the next target.

And then flinching, as four of the Adjutants came together, Biotics building around one of them. "Down!" He snarled, slamming his shoulder into Aria to put himself between her and an Adjutant wreathed in white hot Biotic fire courtesy of three of its fellows, careening straight for them with all the force of a _missile_. She landed first, courtesy of his having shoved her, and he slammed into her a moment later, covering her with his body.

Then, the Biotic _whump_ ripped the air, hurling them apart and sending what felt like fire screaming across his body. His back slammed into a formerly-Cerberus barracks building so hard it - and his ribs - _dented_ , the ODST landing in a heap of partially scorched armor and groaning soldier. He rolled onto his back, ears ringing and sight blurred, and groaned, fumbling for his rifle beside him and dragging it across his chest while he lay there.

He would permit himself the shortest couple of moments, to breathe and collect himself, at least. A massive hole had been ripped in the thin, armored metal of the wall, scattering or killing all of the soldiers who'd been on top of it. A massive hunk of the metal wall had been blown in and wrent aside, blackened and melted into curls spread out along the floor of Omega's ancient concrete. Crates and soldiers lay in heaps, some groaning, others crushed, and all shifting awkwardly as they came to rest.

And through the hole, dozens more Adjutants loping forward from the fronts of buildings, as though they'd been waiting for the hole to appear. Just more evidence of tactics that the Reapers' lesser infantry weren't supposed to be capable of without a Reaper ship in the system…

Regardless, ears still ringing and vision swimming, he forced himself to roll over and pushed himself up and onto his knees. Kneeling, he lifted his mostly undamaged Harrier and sprayed fire through the opening at the oncoming Reapers. The rounds sparked mostly harmlessly off of Barriers and armor but, and though his vision might have betrayed him, he saw one or two go down to his inaccurate fire being added to that of his allies. On the Reapers came, though, loping, limping and even Biotically leaping into the gap in the wall.

Mercenaries and soldiers moved to fill the gap, peppering the monsters on their approach and flicking out Omni-Blades and, in some cases, actual weapons to engage them. Biotic attacks hurled some back, others were overwhelmed and dragged down to be mauled, and even more turned and fled, seeking a place to fire from range instead of fighting in the brutal melee. As he watched, One Turian's twin Omni-Blades buried themselves in a screaming Adjutant, a leg kicking out to drive another back. Wrenching the weapons free he staggered back, slicing both blades horizontally to take another Adjutant by the throat as it scrambled over its dying brother.

Then, a Biotic blast slammed into him from the side, hurling him through two more soldiers and into a wall. All three soldiers were overwhelmed before they could get back on their feet, dragged under a writhing mass of bodies as the defenders were pushed back.

"Up." A semi-familiar, gravelly voice barked, a meat hand closing around his upper arm. The Krogan from before, bleeding from a massive gash along his arm, shoved him back into the woman from before as he rose. Hefting a shotgun in one hand and a meaty, one-handed axe in the other, he stepped between the ODST and the frantic fighting, "Give 'im something to steady his head."

"Hold still. Are you allergic to adrenal shots?" The woman murmured, voice distinctly Australian in that deep, rolling sort of way. He shook his head and felt a prick in his back, just below the plates that protected his stomach. A moment later he felt the oddly forced _perkiness_ of the ergogenic drug coursing through him and straightened, the woman running a scan with her Omni-Tool over his head and chest, "No sign of anything _too_ broken. Do you need anaesthetic?"

"No." He grunted, ignoring the pain talking caused to flare along his torso. Checking his rifle over quickly and changing out its thermal clip, he turned back to the fight. "Anaesthetics would make me an ineffective combatant."

"That's…" The woman shook her head, "No how any of this works."

"Is for Krogan." The large alien grunted, turning to slam a fist into his least burnt shoulder. Turning back, he marched towards the fight with his axe resting on a shoulder, calling back, "Gimme space and support, but stay outta the damn way. Both of you."

"He's-"

"Like that. Yeah." The ODST nodded, turning and climbing onto a crate beside the occupied barracks for a better vantage. Shrugging, he knelt and raised the rifle, finding the Krogan's back as he loped into the fray in the heavy sort of gait that only a Krogan could naturally make. "I know Krogan."

The meaty alien slammed into an Adjutant with enough force to crush it back, axe coming down to split it from from shoulder to crotch. Wading in, he slammed the shotgun into another Adjutant's chest, the blast hurling it back in thirds that scattered along the Adjutant's thinning lines. Rolling his shoulders, he opened fire, long bursts cutting down any Reapers moving towards him and allowing him to wade further into the Reaper lines.

As he went, the other soldiers rallied around him, more for the opening he made than for anything intrinsic to him, and began carving long furrows of fury through the lines as he parted them. The focused fire turned the thin gap the Krogan left into a steadily widening avenue. One that was swiftly filled with more soldiers, cutting them back in a flurry of orange Omni-Gel and whatever melee weapons they had besides. Aria, wreathed in Biotic fire, leapt from somewhere behind him and flew high, arcing down like a mortar blast and hurling the Reapers away in bloody heaps.

That served as the end of the battle, moving them on to simpler clean-up.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"God damn it!" Aria hissed, seated on a crate in the shadow of a ramp that led up onto the defensive wall, with her armor peeled to expose her chest. And the horrifying burn that stretched across one breast and around to her back, curling around her shoulders like the broken fingers of some monster. The Krogan from earlier stood behind her, watching the crowd for curious eyes while his Human partner tended to the wounded queen.

Fingers curled into a fist, Aria demanded in a low hiss, "Could you _not_ do that? It fuckin' hurts!"

"I know it hurts." The woman answered quietly, red hair bared now she'd taken her helmet off to work. Hands pressed against the Asari's chest, pushing the ruined skin up so she could pinch the dead flesh off. It came off in red strips and he winced sympathetically, more than a few plasma scars adorning his own body that had suffered similar treatments. "But if I don't get it off, you'll get an Eezo infection. Or a normal one, when the dead skin gets covered up by healthy skin. Assumin' it won't cause an Adjutant infection all on its own, I mean."

"Still…"

"Want some anaesthesia?"

"I'm not a maiden who can't take some damn burn treatments!" Aria snapped, irrespective of the fact she _very much_ was acting like she couldn't take the burn treatment. Ignoring it, she rested her hand on the opposite knee, squeezing it as the other woman worked and she turned her eyes on the ODST. "Tell me the damn district is clear, Doe. I want to _finish_ this little war game."

"It's mostly clear, your rather noisy Highness." He answered simply, disliking her flippant treatment of the battle they'd just come from enough to snark at the already agitated woman.

" _Not_ the time to be Cunty McSnark, Doe." She threatened, waving a hand to her bare, burned chest and glaring. With as much of her 'friendly' snark as she was able to force through gritted teeth, she ground out, "Enjoy the view quietly, or answer my damn questions, Doe. When can we move?"

"Fireteams are sweeping the district from all sides, ours and the other ally-occupied districts as well." And possibly Cerberus', too, but bad news and a pissed off Aria didn't seem a good combination. Besides, they hadn't actually received any confirmation of that as of yet, so assuming wouldn't make much sense. "The wounded are here under heavy guard, receiving treatment and, if needed, isolation in case of potential Adjutant infection."

As though on cue, someone sle cried out 'No!' ahead of a gun crack, the camp falling into stillness for a moment. A heartbeat later, though, they moved on with a grim and practiced sort of ease. Quietly, he added, "Instances of infection that are identified surely are… Sterilized."

"Yeah, figured that out, you…" She trailed off then, wincing as another strip of burnt skin was peeled back, and met his even gaze. Then she turned it on his rifle and smiled, toothy and feral. " _That's_ why you and the Krogan are here. In case I'm infected."

"Actually," the Krogan rumbled, "I'm only here because Alex asked me to scare off anyone tryin' to see your tits. Dunno why anyone would want to, burnt to fuck as they are, but-"

"Finish that thought and you will sleep on the couch for a month." The woman threatened, earning a loud chuff of amusement from her. And a curious look from her patient _and_ the ODST. She only shrugged, through, brushing them both off with a wave of her hand. "None 'o your damn business. Back to work, thanks."

" _I'm_ here in case you are infected, though." He confirmed, the Asari grimacing. Shrugging, he added quietly, "I wouldn't trust anyone else to be able to deal with you if it came to it. You're too strong, Ma'am."

"And _you_ can handle me?"

"Maybe not, but I'm not letting anyone else get in line before me for a chance to shoot you." She chuckled at the crass joke, and then winced and hissed as the woman dragged off a long line of burnt flesh. Nodding in satisfaction, the woman sealed the bag of trash and set it aside, setting to work disinfecting and bandaging the woman's chest. More serious, he explained, "You seem alright, Ma'am. But I didn't want anyone facing _your_ Biotic power if you started to turn on them."

"That sounds dangerously like a compliment…"

"An acknowledgement." He corrected quietly, turning to look back out on the camp. No one could forget the amount of sheer, raw damage that she had been able to put out in the battle. "Is she clear, Alex?"

"As can be, yeah." The woman grunted, too focused on her work for him to expect any of the usual decorum he might have. "Just gotta get her wrapped and she should be fine. Oughta be up in a few-"

"An hour." The Asari grunted hotly, raising her arm straight over her head like a student with a question while she was wrapped in bandages. Face pinched in pain as pressure was put on her wounds, she forced out, "One hour, and we meet out at the front gate. You and I are headed out to scout, see what we can see of the next district. Maybe the Adjutants broke Cerberus' defensive lines."

"Mhm." It was always possible, he figured. And hey, it would make his job easier, so he wasn't one to reject the concept out of hand. Still. "An hour and a half." He corrected as gently as he could, "Get some food in you and rest. I'll do the same and we can head out, as fit and ready for whatever we run into as possible."

"...Fine." The Asari grunted, no doubt tired and exhausted, and happy to get some rest even if she wouldn't play the 'weakling' over needing it. She nodded regardless and waved him off, "Go on, then. Get yourself a nap or whatever you feel like you need and let me know when _you_ are ready to get our damn mission done."

"We still have several districts to get through to do _that_." He pointed out quietly, turning to give her a look over his partially burnt shoulder armor. She only smirked, though, and he sighed. "I have a feeling you have an idea, though… And I hate it."

"You 'n me both." She nodded, chuckling quietly to herself, "You 'n me both."

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

He ducked the awkward swing of the Trooper's broken rifle and stepped in, slamming his off shoulder into its sternum and then following as it staggered back and away. The man snarled an insult that his knife cut off, burying in its throat as the patrolman went stiff and then fell back and away. He landed in a heap, clutching his throat vainly in an attempt to buy time for help. Or an instinctive flailing attempt to stimy the bleeding and live, as impossible as that sounded.

Two suppressed rounds from his M7S saw an end to that, though.

"About time you finished playing with that, Doe." Aria groused, her own opponent a bundle of ruin armor and smeared blood, pushed into a crater she'd made in a wall for him to rest in. She dusted her hands off and shook her head, murmuring as much to him as to no-one, "Figures Cerberus would already be sending patrols into the damn district. Why wouldn't they?"

"Mhm." It made sense. Once the Adjutants had been pushed back and cut down, and didn't return, they'd push in to retake the district. From the Coalition, the Adjutants, or even possibly _both_. Whatever the case, he turned to her and bobbed his head up the alleyway, towards the street and the sounds of boots echoing. "There's more of 'em. Around or through, Aria?"

"Not using my rank?"

"Forgive me." He sighed, absent-mindedly patting the magazines stowed on his hip to remind himself he was well-supplied. "Around or through the what sounds like three squads of Cerberus soldiers, _my queen_?"

"Hah, that's better. Nice and polite." She laughed, shaking her head and looking to the end of the alleyway. With pursed lips, she sighed tiredly, "My contact is _supposed_ to be in one of these buildings, actually." A gun cracked, suddenly, mixed with a Cerberus cry of alarm and Aria sighed, "And _that_ would be my contact getting antsy and shooting at them. Goddamn gang bangers..."

" _Gangsters_?" He growled,"Your contact is a _gangster_ isn't he?"

"Most of my _army_ is made up of gangs." She countered easily, taking long steps, crackling Biotic energy that flowed off her like water, towards the alley's end. Hips swaying to match her sass, she chuckled, "I don't know if you _noticed_ , but I have a bit of a gig going on here. Pirate queen, matriarch of mafias, grand lad of the gangs… I thought you knew, Doe."

"I'll _try_ not to let my estimation of you drop too far. Your _Highness_." He sighed, shouldering his M7 and rolling his shoulders to ready himself. Stretching his bruised side before going into yet another firefight, as was his job. "Quickly, then. So they can't call _more_ reinforcements down on our heads."

"Fast and rough, then." The woman nodded, grinning ferally, "The _fun_ way."

He went behind her, naturally, the woman crackling so dangerously that he didn't dare try and get ahead of her.

As they rounded the corner, the woman lashed out with a hand, a Biotic cannonball careering away with an explosive result he couldn't see. Rifle fire answered her and she crouched, hissing as her side no doubt flared but scurrying to the side regardless, crossing the street as the rounds peppered her Barrier and the ground around her alike. Both, seemingly, to an embarrassingly equivalent level of effect. The woman came to a parked skycar in her retreat and, kneeling, sent it hurtling up the road, trailing blue Biotic fire all the way and silencing her assailant's reprisal fire.

An opening that he was all too happy to exploit, kneeling around the corner of the alley's entrance in cover.

Stepping into the street, he saw the devastation she had already wrought. Three men down the road had been crushed into one heap and then slammed up, into a walkway that crossed over the road. Four more, a Centurion helmet laying on the road in a streak of red speaking to the quality of her targets, had been crushed and smeared across the road by the hurtling car as well. In total, she'd killed an entire squad on her own, and _both_ of the Centurions in charge of it when a Biotic cannonball caught the other in the chest and hurtled him high into the air to crash down with predictable, bloody results.

"Well," he murmured, "at least she's on _my_ side."

Raising his M7, he began to simply pace forward up the road towards the enemy position, eyes narrow and watching the soldiers. Soldiers who didn't notice him for a long moment, huddling behind the same car that had killed their fellows and now stretched across the road, forming a decent enough barrier for them to hide behind. More cars lay along the road to either side and he made it the length of one and half another before he was noticed, a Cerberus soldier standing and turning his small defense weapon on him.

A long burst of armor piercing fire ripped into his face and throat to put an end to _that_ plan. The other three, though, stood to pepper him in fire that forced him down. Aria stood to support him and she, too, was forced into cover. Kneeling behind the car, he crawled along with one arm and the other holding his M7, trying to edge closer. Trying to get a shot, from the rear of the car instead of the front, at a better angle they might not have expected him from.

A shimmer caught his attention, though and he flinched, eyes widening for the shortest breath of a moment. For a short moment he stood still, ignoring the gunshots pinging off the car he was hiding behind. Then he was moving, rising and staggering back as he wheeled about with his own weapon and stepped out of the swinging range of what he assumed _had_ to be a Phantom.

Instead of a sword, though, a massive cable wreathed in electricity slammed into him, _frying_ him for the instant of contact. As he soared up and through the air, his body spasmed and his vision blurred, the veritable lightning coursing through him from each piece of metal armor to the next, like conduits that continued the pain. An upside, though, was that as he slammed down on the car Aria was hiding behind, he'd been numbed too much to properly _feel_ any of it.

"Fucking wonderful!" Aria snarled, standing to grab him and yank him out of his dent, letting him collapse in a pain filled heap beside her on the sidewalk.

He landed heavily, with his head and shoulders laying just past the edge of the vehicle's rear, which let him have a decent enough view of the road across from him. And the armored Dragoon, who hurled the car he'd been using for covering towards them with his two Biotically charged cables. Aria caught it on a Bubble Barrier and grunted, firing off a cannonball into its chassis to launch it away from them as he approached them.

"Explosives." He grunted, rolling over and fishing two of the det-charges out with a shaking hand. Technically, they were only meant to be used on buildings and armored units, or for sabotage. But just then, he didn't give a damn. "Good for destroying buildings."

"So?" She demanded, stealing his M7 to pepper the oncoming Dragoon as it crossed the road.

"People are less durable than buildings." He explained, the woman blinking and taking the charges from him. She slapped both on the car and then snarled, Pushing it forward into the Cerberus agent.

He reared back and up, slamming the sables down into the car to stop it. But Aria had anticipated this and leapt atop the car and for him, slamming down on the hood and then in towards him with her good shoulder. She caught his face with her shoulder and slammed the ODST's M7S into his gut, emptying the magazine straight into the lighter armored man's abdomen. He spasmed as the weapon exhausted itself and collapsed, limp and bleeding from dozens of holes that had merged into great wound in his stomach, like a claw had gouged it out.

Then, with a grunt of Biotic effort, she hurled the car up and towards the other Cerberus soldiers who had until now held position, waiting to see what would happen. It landed behind them and she barked, "Detonate 'em!"

He did with a simple push of a button, the explosion reverberating through the ground under him. A single rifle and the hand gripping it, sans the rest of the soldier, landed a few feet in front of him and he sighed. A moment later, the Asari was stood over him, watching him cough and smirking.

"Come here often?" She asked amusedly, offering a hand up.

"Not if I can help it." He grunted, letting her drag him up, standing on shaky legs. Aching all over in the way only someone electrocuted could, he waved around them and chuckled darkly, "You don't exactly keep a clean place, you know?"

The woman only chuckled in response, leading him away up the road to meet her 'contact'. Whoever it was, he was at least sure it was worth the effort. Aria didn't _exactly_ seem the type to waste her time on frivolous pursuits that weren't worth the investment, after all. She offered him his weapon back and he took it with a nod of thanks, reloading it affectionately as they walked.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Not a lot of plot movements to be had, here. Just an action oriented chapter. Hope you enjoyed and I didn't fuck up too many spellings.**_

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Dr Killinger :**_

 **No, but yeah, he certainly** _ **is**_ **a badass. Sadly, no Mama Shepard until after Omega is done with. Which, thankfully, won't be TOO much longer.**


	42. Operation Hades - Omega Finale

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

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Their contact was a Batarian man named Tarak, hidden in the back of an alleyway and dressed in a thinly armored matte black combat suit that covered him head to toe. Even his eyes were only just visible through the mostly opaque black of his helmet's visor, and watched them warily as they came down the alleyway. His Predator hung at his side, arm half-slackened in a way that his training told him was meant to seem disarming even though his arm could snap up and to the ready in an instant. He held his M7 in much the same way, albeit across his armored chest rather than at his side, with the fingers of his off hand wrapped loosely around the weapon's front grip.

"T'Loak." The alien practically snarled, turning to the ODST a moment after and grunting an even _less_ respectful. "Human."

"Talon." Aria snapped back with the same kind of animosity he'd shown both of them, plus change. Crossing her arms, she cocked her head and explained for his benefit, "Just a bit before Cerberus hit the station, the Talons were real up and comers. Little do-gooders in the light, ruthless in the dark. Just like Archangel was, back before he and his little gang were wiped out."

"Say what you want, T'Loak. But the only reason you're going to win this fight is because of us, so maybe save it." The woman only shrugged and made a 'get on with it' motion with her hand, earning a tired sigh from the other alien. Shaking his head, he turned and pressed a hand against the wall, pushing it back on hinges that he couldn't see. "Come on, then. Got shit to do."

The access hatch let into a thin, dark tunnel that he could scarcely see in. He blinked to ping his VISR system and winced at the broken, fractaling result. It drew a grunt of pain and an instinctive step back, hand coming up to manually deactivate the VISR system and other flailing to get a grip on the nearby wall so he wouldn't fall. Blinking away the spots and blinded, he flinched at the hand on his shoulder, one arm grabbing the attached wrist and other grabbing for his Krogan knife. Blind and in the darkness, and so close, the M7S would be nearly useless aside from spraying fire and hoping it worked out.

"Relax, dumbass." Aria grunted, yanking her hand free and forcing him past her, pushing him along with a hand on his shoulder. "I know a blind man flailing when I see one. What happened, Doe?"

"VISR is fried. Dragoon must have done it when he hit me." He answered with a grimace, knowing how unlikely it was that he could get it fixed anytime soon. A painful loss, to be certain. But one he couldn't do anything about for now except for closing his eyes and waiting for his blindness to fade. "It flashed in bright fractals. I won't be able to see for a few minutes, probably."

"Sucks to suck." Was all the woman would say, sliding her hand off the metal pauldron and onto the exposed undersuit nearer his neck. The better to steer him, he knew from his own training on VIP extraction.

Ten minutes later, he blinked his eyes open and could see, albeit barely, in the dark of the hallway. With a grunt of thanks he shrugged the woman's hand off and released the handle of his knife, trading the weapon's Krogan grip for the Human one of his M7S and following silently behind the Batarian. The halls they passed through were ancient and, sometimes, clearly made for creatures smaller than them. A dozen times they had to crawl through small access hatches or ancient, broken ventilation connections. And half that many times, the Batarian stopped them to find ancient, sometimes partially rusted shut hatches hidden behind walls of piping or slabs of concrete.

All he could tell, really, was that they were steadily progressing _up_. It was a gradual process, and he could only barely tell it was happening, but he still could. But where up there could they be going that was secure?

"We're headed towards Afterlife…" Aria realized suddenly, the Batarian turning a look on her a sthey walked, peering over his shoulder. "No, not to Afterlife…" She smiled, looking at the Batarian with narrowed eyes, "You shits found my safehouse, didn't you?"

"More like a bunker 'n a safehouse." The Batarian grunted with a small shrug, "But yes. We were a week out from an attack to dethrone your purple ass when Cerberus showed itself."

"Rather dumb, telling me about your plan…" Aria murmured, mind no doubt racing with other things as they walked. Contingencies to cover, who knew about it and which would have told Talon, the works. He could see it in her face. "But of course, I know you know about that bunker and have access to it, so now you know that you can't use that plan. Do tell, though, how did you-"

"One of the techs you hired to make it and bring it up to code. You hired nineteen, killed seventeen, and lost two. _We_ found one of 'em and bought the information." The Batarian answered as they reached a pip covered wall and he knelt, Omni-Tool glowing as he set to work opening yet another hidden hatch. As he worked, and under his breath, he grunted, "Fat lotta good those credits did him back in the Hegemony, though. Did the deal a month 'fore the Reapers showed."

She only shrugged and chewed on her lip in agitation and, if he had to guess, anxiety over something. What it could be would remain a mystery, though. Any conversation that could have been had was cut off by the screeching of metal as the pipes gave way, sliding in on hidden hinges. Several sets of hands came through from the other side, pulling it open as they pushed the heavy bulkhead.

The first thing he saw when he was through were fortifications. Sandbags and broken furniture heaped in a semi-circle that reached up to the ceiling, bristling with rifle barrels stuck through whatever gaps they could find. The weapons were random, with Avengers mixed in with Phaestons, Mattocks and even a few Harriers. Just as random were the aliens around them, who had pulled the door open. Humans, Asari, a couple Turians and even more Batarians than he'd expected to ever see after what had happened to the Hegemony. Though in truth it made sense that many would go to places like Omega, given their lack of trust for the Citadel and the Reaper infestation elsewhere in the Terminus.

"Seal the door and get to work." A flanging, clearly Turian voice ordered as its owner pushed through the helpers that had come to open the door. Thinner than any turian he'd yet seen, and with far less on its head, he took it for a female.

A female whose voice had made Aria stiffen beside him, jaw set and eyes hard. As the woman reached, she ground out, "Nyreen Kandros."

"T'Loak." The alien woman grunted, head cocked to the side and flanges pulled back in what he had long since started taking to be a Turian smile. "Good to see you. How's the throne feeling under you right about now?"

"Nyreen…"

"Nice and comfortable?" The Turian pressed, turning her head to the other side mockingly and smiling, teeth bared. An action that added threat and mockery to her smile. Both of which were only furthered by Aria snarling and refusing to answer her. Finally, the Turian shrugged and turned, motioning for them to follow her through the bunker, "Come on, then. No reason to waste our time. Unless you want to delay getting your throne back."

"Point taken." The Asari snarled, rolling her shoulders and letting her Biotics crackle threateningly.

The bunker itself was rather simple, by the standards of what constituted a bunker. Their entrance was a rear one, and well out of the way, which let into storage. Shelves like those found in stores lined the place, filled up to a third in everything one needed for refitting an army. Which the Talon had seemingly taken full advantage of the surplus of ammunition and armor, fitted out well as they made their way through. And all of them, amusingly enough, took some modicum of joy in seeing Aria bristle at having been so thoroughly robbed of her weapons and armor.

Though it wasn't the most _mature_ thing to be amused by, he couldn't help the hidden smirk that spread across his face.

The next room was a wide working and living area, one side dominated by workbenches and retooling tools and the other filled by cots and detritus. This, he supposed, was where the Talon soldiers rested and prepared. For how long, he could only guess, based on the tension in the air and the state of the room. They were led through it and through yet another door at the back, and into a room ringed by terminals crowded by their workers and dominated by a large holographic projection table. On it, a glowing map of their area waited, lit in a ruddy orange. Their bunker was highlighted in green and, a dozen feet up and several blocks down, another location had been lit up in blue.

It was labelled 'Afterlife', their objective on this station and where they could end this small war.

"Alright then, I'd like to keep this brief." The Turian, Nyreen, grunted as they reached the holotable. Flicking a talon she ordered her aides to give her control of the terminal and gave them a look. "We don't have a lot of time, so save your questions unless they are _damn_ important."

"Can I ask why?" Aria cut in, immediately throwing the Turian's request out the window and smiling for how purposeful it was. The Turian's mandibles clicked in agitation and the woman smirked, baring her teeth as always in a display of amusement as much as in a threat, "You all look _comfortable_ here. Why the big rush? Enjoy my food, my water, my _guns_."

"Because, Aria," the Turian snarled, "every minute we waste the people of Omega station die. Reapers, Cerberus, _looters_ , doesn't matter."

"Stop my bleeding-"

"I would if I could, T'Loak. And the station would be better for it." The Turian snapped over her shoulder, the sharpness drawing eyes from around the bunker. Nyreen waved them off though, sending them back to their tasks with the simple gesture, "But I need your manpower and your alliance to save this station. So we're allies."

"Can we get on with it?" John interrupted, stepping forward to lean on the holotable across from the Turian woman. Aria's eyes narrowed but he explained anyway, staring her down from behind his visor as he did. "We have work to do, and the Coalition can't hold forever if it's defending against the station _and_ defending against attempts by Cerberus to break the siege. And all the while, these resources _aren't_ fighting the Reapers."

"You're right. I'm sorry." Nyreen grunted, a note of mourning and contrition in her voice. Raising an orange, glowing arm, she began to talk, talons flicking across keys as she did. As she did, red lines spindled out like a web around the bunker, crawling around Afterlife and then striking in towards it. "My men will use the access paths to spread out around Afterlife. We launch an all out attack on the surrounding Cerberus emplacements. In part to cover _our_ attack on Afterlife, and in part to distract from it."

"A blitz. Rush the club and take the throne back by force." Aria grunted, giving Nyreen a look, eyes narrowed and a frown stretching across her face. Quietly, she asked, "Do you even know what kind of defenses are in Afterlife? What Cerberus has done along the way to it, whatever that might be in your little plan?"

"Petrovsky keeps a guard of a dozen troopers, four Centurions and a pair of Guardians with him at all times." Nyreen answered simply, shrugging and giving the woman a small shake of her head. "Besides that? He could have a damn battleship cannon aimed at the door in there for all we know."

"Gee, that's a lot to go on…"

"Yeah, well, we've done our best, T'Loak." Nyreen snapped, giving the woman a hard look and turning back to the ODST. As though she expected him to be a more rational person to talk to, or just hated Aria, she explained, "We seize Petrovsky and force him to yield the station. Then you and the Coalition can take the system, and we can start cleaning out Omega properly."

"Yes, because I'm sure you consider me and mine _clean_."

"Not by a long shot, but you're better than Cerberus or the Reapers. Not by much but, eh, a shot in the leg is better than one in the spine." Nyreen answered, avoiding the Asari's bait like a woman born to it. Or a woman who had simply spent enough time dealing with it to have learned to do it well. Giving the Asari a look, the woman nodded, "If you're set in the plan, then you can get some rest. I'll handle the minutiae and we will move out in the morning."

"Straight track to Afterlife, and your throne. Minimal risk, surgical strike. Cut the head off the snake and be done with it." The ODST pushed off the table and gave the self-made hierarch a small shrug. "Seems straightforward enough. Not easy," it never was, he knew, "but simple and straightforward. If my recommendation matters, then I would recommend we move forward with the Talon plan."

"Fine." Aria grunted, "But this ends with Petrovsky's grey matter giving Afterlife a fresh coat of paint."

"Hackett wants him alive." John pointed out dryly, earning nothing more than a dismissive wave of her hand. Head still aching from earlier and having none of it, he stepped forward and shook his head, "Aria, this ends with you on your throne. Don't throw that away just so you can get some petty revenge with your own hands."

"He took my station-"

"And we're going to give it back to you." John grunted shortly, "But we _need_ Petrovsky to finish Cerberus. He's our only lead whose head won't explode when we start questioning him."

The Asari was quiet for a long, long time before she grunted and nodded. Turning to leave, she grunted, "Fine then. Blitz through the front door, give me my throne, and get the hell off my station with your little package." Shaking her head, she called back, "I'm finding a quiet corner and a ration crate. Keep your people off me or I'll smear _them_ across the wall."

"She's as fun as ever…" Nyreen murmured once the woman had been gone for a minute, and her distant demands for a ration crate had ended. Thankfully without any gunfire or Biotic explosions that he could make out. Relieved for it, the Turian sighed, "I don't know why the Coalition agreed to work with her… It won't end up well for anyone but Aria. _If_ that."

"The Coalition needs a force here to control and rally the populace. To the Coalition's knowledge, Aria was the only one that could accomplish that." He answered simply, crossing his arms and heading for the door. Across the room he spotted Aria, back to him and lounging on a couch across the room, eating her way through a ration crate. Turning back to her he grunted, "But that isn't the case after all, is it? No, and I suspect there's someone more stable that we didn't know about."

"How do you mean? Wait." She asked, flicking a talon and ordering her men away from them. With another, she called him closer and he approached, standing next to her with his arms around his chest and his eyes on the door. "Now talk. What do you mean?"

Quietly enough he knew _no one_ could hear even if they wanted to he explained, "Aria is a wildcard. And I have a job to do here on Omega station."

"Getting her throne back for her." Nyreen nodded, mandibles flicking in question. "Correct?"

"No. My job is to secure Omega system for the Coalition, and pursue whatever ends best enable the Coalition to hunt down and eliminate Cerberus. Petrovsky's capture, _alive_ , is a requirement for the second part of my objective." The Turian blinked at his words, head angling in question, exposing her throat in what he knew from his reading to be a subconscious show of trust. So she was listening, then. Good. "If I can't trust Aria to do that, then I can't trust her to have the Coalition's back after the Reapers and Cerberus are beaten."

"Thinking that far ahead?"

"Mhm." Not really, of course. His priorities were on the Reapers and Cerberus both, but a wise soldier always had an eye on the future. And with an easy solution to hand… "Now, Talon Commander. Are you willing to listen to my offer?"

"Prepare the plans and get the unit assignments finished." She ordered, eyes locked on his own through the depolarized visor of his helmet. A chorus of affirmations carried around them both and she turned her gaze back on him. "What kind of offer do you have, then? And if it includes stabbing Aria in the back, you better have a damn good plan."

"It does and I do." He nodded, holding up a finger to silence her when she made to speak. In as firm a voice as he could channel, he ended with, "But only if she refuses to give us Petrovsky. I need you to be completely clear on that. And I need you not to make a play if she decides to play ball."

"I've heard of you, you know. That man from another dimension or whatever." The Turian answered quietly, eyes searching his and his face for whatever they could find. When she found whatever she could, if anything at all, she asked, "You were special operations, weren't you?"

"I was." Special operations was Turian speak for 'black ops' he knew from his readings. Luckily, even though the _name_ was different, the roles were the same. Or close enough to the same for his needs, at the very least. "And in the interests of Earth and her colonies, I do whatever it takes to get my job done. And besides, would Aria do any different in my shoes?"

"No. No she wouldn't." He didn't respond, letting the Turian stew in his offer. Finally, she nodded and quietly murmured, "I'm in. On your terms, just like you said. If she won't give you Petrovsky."

He grunted and nodded, turning to leave. He made it four steps before stopping and turning back to the shocked looking Turian. "I'm low on ammunition for my M7S." He grunted quietly, "I need a weapon."

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

A hand on his shoulder woke him up a handful of hours later, Nyreen standing over him. Gone was her hood, replaced by a black helmet with two red talons painted along the bottom of it, along the line where her jaw hinged to her skull. He grunted and sat up, letting her pull him up and press a weapon into his arms. He lifted the blue oval in his arms to look at it but her explanation preempted his looking, "An Avenger. Medium engagement range, fitted with an Omni-integrated sight and anti-armor rounds. My own, special rifle."

"I'm flattered." He grunted, meaning it. To many Turians a specially modified rifle had a sort of soul within itself. One tied to its wielder.

That she was willing to lend it to him meant she was trusting him. The double meaning was not lost on him, either. It was a weight in his hands, in fact, regardless of his quipping. The same kind of weight as he felt resting on his shoulder and emblazoned on his chest. Quietly, he raised his arms, leaving the rifle to rest across his shoulder blades and turning to the alien woman. "Thank you."

"See that it gets back to me." She grunted simply, turning a look on the men behind her rapidly readying themselves for the coming fight. Quietly, she asked, "If you have to do it, can I make a request?"

Odd as it was, and as impossible as it might end up being for him to meet it, he nodded. "What is it?"

"Make it clean." Was all she said, voice cracking under strain he couldn't place. Before he could do more than narrow his eyes in question, she turned, striding away and raising her voice. "Talons, hear me and heed my words."

At her words, the men and women stopped their work, turning all attention on the woman. Even Aria, blinking, turned to her. Back straight as steel, the Turian began to speak. "For months, Cerberus has held our station in its grip. Civilians have vanished, non-Humans have been pushed into labor camps if they say anything, and our resources have been strangled out of us. If we resist, they cut the oxygen supply and choke us out. All the while, we have fought them. Sabotaged them, freed laborers, stolen back supplies. By now, it's as natural as breathing."

"So," she flicked her talons and two long submachine guns sprang to their full on her waist, the woman plucking them from their homes with a smile, "let's make one more smash and grab. Shall we?"

"For Omega!" A Human cried, face hidden behind a heavy helmet and armor painted in Blue Suns colors. At his call, the room thundered a matching cheer and the warriors turned back to readying themselves.

"Ten minutes and we move." She called out, "When this is over, I'm buying all of us a round. Or twelve."

Fifteen minutes later the three of them emerged onto a wide avenue, the Trooper leading at the front and Aria in the back. His heavier armor made him a more ideal point man, for obvious reasons, even if his VISR system was down and he wasn't as capable of a scout. Instead of pinging with his VISR to track signatures through the wall and up the street, he was relegated to the more old-fashioned method of kneeling at the corner and poking his head around.

"Five troopers, no supplementaries." He grunted, watching them in formation around a building, one of them carrying a heavy riot ram and trying to beat down the door with it. The lack of Centurions or Guardians was an oddity, but one he relegated as having to due with the siege across the station calling on the more specialized units. "Distracted. Attempting to gain entry to a building."

"And the street itself?" Nyreen asked, "The barriers blocking the way?"

"Down." He reported, eyeing the pylons just past the troopers. Occasionally they would spark weakly and try to reform, but nothing came of it. Quietly, he asked, "Your doing, Kandros?"

"My people, yeah." Her tone was hard and sharp, and told him not to press her for any more information than he'd already been given. Raising her Omni-Tool, lit in red rather than orange to minimize the light factor, she took a breath and said, "The operation begins across the district in fifteen seconds. Five minutes after, we advance up the street as fast as we are able to. Aria and I at the front, Biotics free."

"Yep."

"Yes, Ma'am."

True to her words fifteen seconds passed and the Cerberus troopers stopped what they were doing, hands pressed to the sides of their helmets as they listened to a report. After hearing it, three of them turned to jog off while the other two set back to work on the door. Two minutes later the door gave way and the Troopers stepped back, raising their Hornets and preparing to breach.

"Not today." He grunted, stepping around the corner and raising the modified, blue Avenger.

Twin bursts of five ripped through the air and down the street. One slammed into the closest trooper's helmet, carving through and into his skull. Had it not, the force of the rounds snapping his head to the side and breaking his neck would have. The second went more astray, rounds punching into the Trooper's head, shoulder and neck, ripping a hole in the latter that ended the poor man.

"What are two minutes, hey? Fuckin' soldier boys, I swear, totally impatient. The lot of you." Aria grunted as the two Biotics rose and stepped past him into the street. Over her shoulder she called back, tauntingly, "You wanted to start early, Doe, so keep the hell up!"

"Hmph." He grunted, jogging behind them up the empty street without a word.

"Right at the coming corner. There's a Cerberus barricade there, we'll smash through 'em." Kandros called back as they ran up the street, headed towards a large four-way clogged by cars that had been stopped there for what looked like days.

Long enough he could see dust on them, whatever the case.

Rounding the corner they came face to face with a Cerberus checkpoint. It was built like a police barricade would have been and manned by a half dozen Cerberus troopers. These were armed with Hornets as well, serving a policing rather than combat roles just like the nones before had been. They didn't hesitate to open fire on them as they rounded the corner, though, rounds sparking off their barriers for a single second.

Inside the second second the air tasted of electricity, twin balls of Biotic power hurling by him at high speed and slamming into each other in the opening left to allow vehicles through the checkpoint. The resulting explosion ripped the barricades, and _men_ , apart in a blue supernova that lasted for only a heartbeat. In its wake was left a steaming circle of devastation not unlike a Wraith plasma explosion, bodies at the edge smoldering and smoke curling up from the burnt concrete.

If he was asked, he'd have happily said he hated the reminder.

"Just like old times." Aria practically purred, giving the Turian a look and grinning ferally, "Fun times, weren't they? Back before you ran off to play hero, I mean."

"District block ends just ahead, less than a city block to go." The Turian grunted shortly, ignoring Aria entirely and taking off as fast as her long, Turian legs could carry her. Which, it turned out, was fairly fast.

Another block passed by in an empty blur, Cerberus' forces so thinned out that they didn't see another soul as they ran. Neither, though, did they see any station dwellers. Wherever they had gone to, he didn't know, aside from that it certainly wasn't here. At the end of the block another massive wall spanned up, high above them like the other times he'd come to the end of a habitation block. Here, though, the door wasn't sealed and manned by dozens of angry Reapers.

Instead, as the door hissed open, he came face to helmet with a trio of Troopers. Surprised, they hesitated for the briefest moment, before Biotic Throws hurled two of them away at such speed that when they hit the concrete beyond the door, he heard their wet _crack_. He slammed into the third bodily, shoving him back and slipping a leg between his own to shove him down the stairs behind him. As he tumbled, the ODST sighted him, rifle bouncing as he did until he found a good shot and sent a burst into him.

The access way didn't let out onto another avenue, it turned out. Instead they descended the steps into a marketplace. The only sign he could read said 'Harrot's Surplus Supplies', which had been boarded shut by heavy metal plates and left abandoned. Two more Troopers rounded a corner past the stairs and two more Biotic cannonballs ripped through the air, slamming them into each other with enough kinetic power their bodies broke around each other and left them in a ball of broken, knotted limbs.

They kept up their pace, rushing through the market and around a corner to a closed metal door. At it they stacked up, taking the moment to breathe before the last leg of their pseudo-infiltration. While they did, their Turian comrade rattled off, "Five troopers down. Petrovsky should have half a dozen more and the rest inside, unless he diverted them elsewhere. The Centurions and Guardians and we should be through."

"They'll be there." Aria sneered, shaking her head, "Little weasel would never leave himself exposed."

"On my mark." The Turian grunted, setting her weapon on a hip and flexing her claws. After a long few seconds she rose, slammed a hand against the release and surged through. A pair of Guardians waited on the other side, their backs to the door. One fell to her talons, ripping into the backs of their neck just under their helmets and severing their spine. The other died even more mercilessly, hurtled to the side by a Throw and sent careening over a ledge into the miles of empty space to fall through before he died.

"Centurions!" She grunted, sinking to a knee and vulnerable as he and Aria stepped up behind her.

He leveled his borrowed rifle on one, pouring fire on it like water from a hose onto a fire, rounds sparking across the soldier's body. His shields sparked as he turned, stumbling and jerking as the duo tried to react. His shields failed before he could do more than spray fire into the wall over their heads, and a moment after he fell himself, rounds carving through armor and into flesh and bone. As he fell his partner hurtled towards them, flailing through the air and surrounded by Biotic energy.

He met his end on Turian claws, Kandros grunting as she took his weight and turned, letting him slump off her. They wasted no time, even to let her flick the blood of her claws. Instead they pushed on, towards the door. It chimed and slid open as they approached, another pair of Troopers stepping through with Guardians formed up in front of them defensively. As they had at the barricade, the two Biotics hurled their projectiles and let the Element Zero mortar strike eradicate them entirely.

At last, they stepped into Afterlife. Or rather, its entry hall, headed for the door. The far door chimed open and three Centurions rushed in, Harriers pouring fire down on them. In answer, Kandros projected a Biotic wall before them and he drew an explosive from his canister, hurtling it ahead of them and detonating it in their midst. Two died outright, bodies reduced to pulp and metal against the wall on their right side. The last, missing and arm and staggered, was hurled back into Afterlife by a Biotic Throw.

Inside Afterlife didn't resemble the club he'd been told it was. Instead, it was a control room, dominated by terminals, communications arrays, and the like. The skeleton of a club could be discerned, the vague outline of a bar visible to one side, but that was all. The private box to the right had been changed as well, glass covered in cables and monitors.

At the top of the ramp stood an old man in a Cerberus uniform, hands held up in surrender. Before they could do anything, he called out to them, "I have already spoken with Admiral Hackett to tender my surrender. He approved of my conditions for it, and my soldiers are standing down across the station."

"You think you can just surrender?" Aria snarled, storming ahead of them with Biotic power crackling off her. He gave the Turian a look and she nodded, turning to watch the door. And, pointedly, not looking to see how things would play out.

Petrovsky flinched at the duo's, backpedaling into the control room as Aria reached him. Frightened, he stammered, "L-Lieutenant Commander Doe, I've surrendered! Hackett promised me safety in exchange for- Ack!" His words were cut off by Aria's fist in his stomach, doubling him over and letting him collapse in a heap at her feet.

"I don't give a damn if you've surrendered to _them_!" She snarled, reaching down to drag the man up and turning to hurl him against a command console that looked out on the former club. He collapsed over it and turned, catching a fist across his face from the irate woman which broke his nose. Rearing back, she smiled, fist wreathed in Biotic blue, "Go to hell, Cerberus-"

"We need him alive, Aria." He grunted, silently praying to whatever god might exist, and those he was sure did _not_ , that she would listen.

Willing as he was to do what needed to be done, he didn't fancy killing the woman. She'd saved his life, after all, and they'd developed a decent rapport. Slowly, he collapsed his borrowed Avenger and set it aside before stepping around on her left side, resting his left hand hand on the shoulder whose arm held the Cerberus commander down. The other he brought back, fingers relaxed, to rest behind his waist where she couldn't see it behind his body.

Quietly, he urged her, "Please, Aria. You made an agreement. Keep your word."

She seemed to consider his request for a moment, chewing her lip in that way he'd learned meant she was considering whatever had been put before her. Finally, though, and sounding genuine, she apologized, "I'm sorry. But I can't just let him go after what he did. To me, to my _station_. I need this, John. Please."

"I understand." He nodded, depolarizing his visor so she could see a friendly face. Swiftly and fluidly, knowing she would have been focusing on using her Biotics to beat the general, he turned. Glowing orange, his right arm snapped in, Omni-Blade dagger burying itself in between her ribs and curving up into her heart. She only flinched and he sighed, "I'm sorry, Aria."

"And I thought we were getting along, too…" She grunted, releasing the general and staggering back off his blade.

With a flick, the weapon vanished and he stepped past her, kneeling as she fell so she wouldn't collapse and more gently laying her down. She was dead long before he laid her out, folding her hands on her sternum to hide the wound, but he didn't care. He owed her at least this kindness after betraying her.

"We were." He grunted shortly as he rose and turned to the general, who himself had staggered towards the door. Grabbing him by the neck he dragged him down the ramp and shoved him into the Turian by the door. When she looked towards the command booth he answered her question. "Omega is yours, Nyreen. Rule well, and don't stab the Coalition in the back."

"I won't." Was all he waited to hear, turning to leave with his hands curled into tight fists at his side.

Outside, he sat on the stairs that led up to Afterlife and sighed. To himself and no one else he murmured, "You did the right thing. She was too erratic and untrustworthy to be trusted to lead in the Coalition. And Petrovsky is an easy way to find the next Cerberus base to hit."

All were good justifications for fact.

None made him feel any less like a murderer, though.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **So.**_

 _ **That happened.**_

 _ **Forgive me?**_

 _ **Regardless, my thoughts on the Omega Arc. I'm largely unsatisfied with it. I'm more of an organic story writer, so I only ever really plan out the overall gist of an arc. The major events. Character deaths, major scenes like the Rookie's speech to the Krogan or Aria's death. NORMALLY this results in a very organic story run and I like it. But the Omega arc, I feel, wasn't good for this. In future for such long arcs, I will FAR more tightly plan what I want to happen. Or maybe I am simply being too hard on myself, as I sometimes do.**_

 _ **If anyone has constructive suggestions on tweaks to this, toss 'em at me.**_

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Human Dragon :**_

 **Thanks~!**


	43. Operation Hades - The Debrief

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

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"Lieutenant Commander Doe reporting as ordered, Sir." He snapped out, sliding into an armored salute as the Admiral turned to look at him from behind his desk. The man eased back in his chair and gave him a nod in greeting and the ODST slid into a more relaxed at ease. In front of him he noticed a folder and grimaced, asking quietly, "You called me to ask about my after-action report, sir?"

"I did." The man gestured to the seat across from him and, adjusting his still dirty armor, the trooper slid into it. At another signal the younger man sighed and pulled his helmet off, tucking it under his seat at the man's direction. Conversationally, Hackett waved a hand at his armor and asked, "You're still fighting on the station, son?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Why?" Hackett asked, fingers laced together and gaze impassive in the way of a soldier analysing something. When the ODST didn't answer immediately, he added, "You're on leave while we mop up Cerberus' resistance in-system. You don't _need_ to fight on Omega, Doe. So why are you out there risking it?"

"Are you ordering me to stop?" The man's brow rose challengingly and he added, belatedly, "Sir."

"No, John, I'm not. From what I understand, you're just as much an asset wandering in to help secure a position as I would expect you to be." Hackett paused to take a drink and let the words soak in, licking his lips with a theatrical 'ah' sound before going on. "No, that isn't the issue. I'm asking you why you are _choosing_ to endanger yourself and exhaust yourself when I have given you time to rest."

"Well, Sir, I…" He almost answered right away but then paused for a moment, something telling him to choose his words carefully. That there was something else at play he should be worried about. "I don't exactly have anything better to do, Sir. And frankly, my priority is winning this war as fast as possible."

"And you don't care what you have to do to that end?"

"No, Sir." He shook his head, adding, "Why do I dislike the way you said that?"

"A question for later." The man grunted, waving him off and reaching out with a long finger to tap the folder that held his report, still open to the last handful of pages. "For now, I have another question. You killed Aria T'Loak, rather than let her kill General Petrovsky."

"I did."

"Why?" Hackett asked simply, gesturing at the evidence of what he had to say with a hand. Namely, his own report. "The battle was already turned against Cerberus, and his ground forces were never going to surrender. At least beyond the officer corps. And from all reports, _yours included_ , you two got along well enough. So why betray and kill her?"

"She was an unstable leader prone to bouts of irrational actions to get what she wanted, Sir. She knew we _needed_ Petrovsky to find more Cerberus locations and root out their resistance before they could hamper our advance into the Terminus Systems." They needed to keep their secured little oases safe and supplied while the Geth built up for the second offensive, and Cerberus wouldn't allow that. Instability in the Omega system, one of their key anchors, was unacceptable for that reason. "Nyreen Kandros, by all accounts _including_ Aria's own behavior, is a far more stable leader. And one that looks down on the seedier aspects of the criminal kingdom her predecessor built. It seemed… Like a simple decision, Admiral."

"And rationally speaking, you'd be right." The Admiral nodded, closing his folder and revealing a second lying under it. Opening _that one_ , he began to skim it. As he did, finger trailing along the sentences idly, he spoke to him, "Nyreen Kandros is an ex-military Turian who served in the Heirarchy's Cabal units. Their Biotic forces," the man clarified when the ODST made to ask, "where she felt she was underutilized both as a Turian and as a Biotic soldier."

"Understandable." Many in the UNSC left for similar reasons, feeling wasted in whatever fields they were in. Some became Insurrectionists, he knew, but the vast majority retired to the private sector. Or moved to other arms of the massive UNSC military body. "And after she left?"

"She was a mercenary for a while." The older, more scarred man answered quietly, "Even worked under T'Loak herself, for a while. Left over disagreements about how Aria handled things and vanished. Apparently, she was working as a modern vigilante for a while. Modeled after Archangel's targeting methodology."

"Then I believe I made the right decision."

"You did, at least on paper. We've spun her death as a martyrdom and the Patriarch has fallen in line behind Kandros as a result. We get her forces, her territory as a push point, and a better ally. A win all around for the Coalition." The man nodded, sounding pleased but also exhausted by the entire matter. Meeting his eyes he let his brows furrow and asked, quietly, "But son, are you alright with what happened? And everything else, too. Gettin' dragged here, Krios' death, _Javik's_ … You haven't slowed down in months, Doe."

"I'm fine, Sir."

"Are you sure?" The drop trooper made to answer and Hackett cut him off, raising a hand and offering him a small, polite and understanding smile. Quietly, as though he were afraid to spook him somehow, "I need to know the truth, John. I don't need platitudes, or assurances, or anything of the sort. I need to know for absolute _certain_ that I can depend on you before I deploy you."

"Hmph." After a moment, he sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a deep breath to think. Finally, tensely, he admitted, "As long as I have an objective to focus on, I can deal, Admiral. Give me a mission to keep my attention and I'll be fine. Ship me off for mandatory leave or something, and I'll lose it, thinking too much."

"You _could_ relax." The man suggested, "Find yourself a warm body and a soft bed, plus or minus a hot meal or three. Enjoy a few weeks away from all the killing and dying."

"Not my kind of thing." He shrugged simply, "I prefer to focus on my work rather than waste time like that."

"Not your kind of thing? What, _living_ isn't 'your kind of thing'?" He met Hackett's eyes but said nothing and the man pursed his lips, looking very much like a grandfather as he sat there and considered him. Tapping a long finger on the files on his desk, he chewed a lip and then sighed. "Anyone else talked like that and I'd drum them out of the military. Any other time, preferably one without giant robots trying to kill us all, andI'd do it to you, too."

"I'm fine, Sir." He assured him again, "After the war I'll think about any of that. For now, I need my next objective."

"Assuming there will _be_ an after."

"There will be an after, Admiral." Even if he wasn't there to see it, he knew they could win. Just like he had faith that the UNSC had come through somehow in his own place and time, even if he wasn't there to see it. Raising an eyebrow he added, "Unless you know something I don't, Admiral."

"The Coalition First Fleet just got cut down to a third of its fighting power, defending Citadel space in vanguard of defending Tuchanka." The man explained, smirking sadly when the younger soldier grimaced. Chuckling mirthlessly, the Admiral nodded knowingly and sighed, "Alliance Second and First Fleets are moving to take the defensive posture, don't worry. They're not in the _best_ shape, but… Well, we knew the Reapers would target us eventually."

"And the refugee situation?"

"The Citadel is playing host to anyone that doesn't want to go to Tuchanka, and on Tuchanka itself there's plenty of work programs to keep people productive. Farms with short-run food-stuffs are beginning to see _some_ return already too, but food is still an issue." He sighed, shaking his aged head tiredly and giving the man across from him a long look. Pursing his lips, he frowned even more heavily, which the younger soldier hadn't thought _possible_. "Our fleets are skirmishing all along the space adjoining Citadel and Coalition territories, fighting over the worlds we abandoned only a little while ago. You know what's stalling us most?"

"Having the large fleet we have out here, in the back lines, fighting Cerberus." He answered immediately. A fleet officer he might not be, but he could understand the more obvious matters of battle lines and territory defence.

"Technically, we're also skirmishing with the Reapers out here, too. We're on the other side of the Reaper battle line, sure, but behind us is Salarian, Asari and parts of Salarian space." His grim smirk turned roguish, then, and he leaned back in his chair. "The food, materials and volunteers from their space aren't things to be ignored either." At his raised eyebrow, Hackett gestured above him, at the emptiness of vacuum who knews how many feet above them both, "Five Asari ships just joined us out here. They won't push _out_ , and neither will the three Salarian Special Tasks Group interception frigates, but they'll hold here to keep our rear safe."

"Useful."

"Mhm." The man nodded, "The Republics, for all that it took them _months_ to do it, seem to be finally getting their heads out of their collective blue asses. But they refuse to fight _Cerberus_ unless they fire the first shots."

"The Asari won't fight Cerberus?" That was strange, to say the least. Cerberus were clearly stalling the war effort against the Reapers _and_ they had hit the Citadel as well. Their refusal to partake in the conflicts at large had sparked a lot of outrage, political loss and ethnic tensions already. Deploying against the Reapers _helped_ , but not fighting Cerberus after everything… "Do we have any explanation on the Salarian and Asari neutrality towards Cerberus?"

"None." The man answered, "But a Colonel Kirrahe has reached out to us with suspicions. What those were, he wasn't sure, but he's been an outspoken advocate of the remaining Citadel races actually _joining_ the war."

"Colonel…"

"Formerly Major." Hackett explained quietly, as though suddenly wary of someone hearing him. Who it could have been, Doe had no idea, but he didn't question the paranoia. "He's since been promoted a fair number of times for gallantry, field successes, casualties above him and political connections to the sitting Salarian councilor."

"The same councilor who refused to join our war effort?"

"The same, yes, but word is that decision was not his." The man answered with a small shake of his head, "Rather, it was the current matriarch of the Union. _She_ ordered him to make that decision, and did so against his recommendations according to Kirrahe. Why the Asari didn't fall in line we don't rightly know."

"Blackmail?" Hackett raised an eyebrow and he explained, "The Union places a lot of value on its intelligence gathering networks. And for good reason, from what I understand they are _excellent_ bordering on the ludicrous. And the Asari are obsessive over their galactic face. If the Salarians knew something that the Asari wanted kept quiet…"

"Then they could blackmail the Asari into falling in line and tie up any Citadel votes after the fact to keep the Citadel from acting." Hacketts brows furrowed, though, and he asked, "But that doesn't gel with the current situation on the Citadel. Why do that and oust the Turians, and then _after_ all of that, still come in to defend against the Reapers?"

"Cerberus has something on the Union." He concluded, grimacing at the prospect of a group like Cerberus having something on the greater galactic powers. "Not enough seemingly to get them to attack _us_ , and doing so would be suicide regardless. But enough to keep two of the stronger galactic factions out of the fight against them. At least _before_ we had the Rachni, Geth, Turians, Quarians and Omega on-side."

"A good line of thinking, Lieutenant Commander." Hackett sighed, evidently not thrilled about where it had _led_ but resigned to pursuing the suspicions. "I'll see our own intelligence corps and contacts all notified of the suspicion and turn some assets to clearing it. For now, though, I needed to brief you on our next steps against Cerberus. Petrovsky, for all his Cerberus credentials as a pile of human refuse, has kept his word."

"Sir." He nodded, leaning forward as he pulled a third file from under the other two and set it down.

"He's not cleared to know everything Cerberus has, or where, regardless of his rank." Compartmentalization made sense for any organization, and especially one like Cerberus was, so he nodded understandingly. Seeing it, Hackett went on, "He's detailed us to two large scale projects he was tasked to direct manpower and resources to from Omega. Refugees, enlistees, ammunition and salvage, the works."

"The first is Project Time Keeper." Hackett explained, drawing out its dossier and laying it on top of the folder. At a nod when he reached for it, the ODST took the dossier and began skimming through it. Seeking to move things along while he did, Hackett detailed in brief, "Military production supplies, general goods and luxury supplies were detailed to be sent there. And in far smaller amounts than the other project he was supporting."

"I see." He nodded, "Officers, maybe. Or very important persons, secured in a safehouse of sorts."

"Our thoughts exactly." Hackett agreed, "But given the state of the war at large, Cerberus having _money_ isn't as big a deal to us." He didn't draw out another dossier this time, instead handing the folder over to him bodily, " _This_ is the supply and manpower requisition list for Project Safe Haven _and_ Project Turncoat. The files were identical, which we take to mean the locations are the same."

"Thousands of people, entire fleets of escorts, mountains of food, water, supplies… Construction equipment, mapping systems..." He blinked his realization and looked up to the Admiral, hefting the heavy folder in his hand. "This is a _colonial charter_ , Admiral. Not some project dossier."

"Our thoughts precisely." Hackett agreed, standing and continuing. "I'm dispatching you with a handful of our frigates to investigate the two projects named in that file. Normally, I'd prefer to move the fleet in being there, but while you are gone I intend on carving my way further into the Terminus. There are a few planets currently being purged that I would very much like to rescue."

"Understood, Sir." He nodded, standing and snapping a salute.

"And Doe?" He looked up from collecting his helmet and the Admiral smiled thinly, raising an eyebrow almost teasingly. "Try to get yourself some of that life we were talking about before. It would do you some good and I know for damn sure anything with legs in the fleet would listen if you paid 'em any attention."

"I'll…" He blinked, "Think about it, Sir. I promise."

"Good enough for now, son." The man answered, retaking his seat and setting to work cleaning up the briefing files. Quietly, he added, "Dismissed and good hunting, Lieutenant Commander Doe. Send some of those hounds to hell for me."

"Sir," he nodded, "Yes, Sir."

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

As the main command ship for one of the highest ranking Coalition officers, the _Everest_ had a handful of the expensive, advanced communication suites. Six of them, in fact, set in heavily armored rooms along a single hallway along the spine of the ship right in its core. The safest place in the entire ship, it had been explained to him, which was why they'd been put there. Even if the _Everest_ were crippled they could hope to recover the quantum entanglement systems, at least in part, after the fact. Obviously no one planned to _lose_ the flagship of the fleet, and everyone knew that if they did do so then it was less than likely that they would both lose the flagship _and_ win the battle. But such was the nature of compartmentalization and planning, he'd been told time and again by logistics officers.

Needless to say, with all the security measures taken to protect them,they were incredibly useful. Critical to daily operations, even. As such, securing a few minutes of their use for a private matter was nearly impossible for almost anyone except Hackeet himself. And whoever he saw fit to pay a favor to.

"Doe?" Shepard said as the holographic pixels formed into her familiar shape, the woman looking tired even through the blue edge that the technology lent everything. She smiled, though, and even laughed when he only nodded in greeting. "It is you! I thought the ident-transcript the _Everest_ sent had to be some kind of trick. How are you doing out there? I heard Omega got dealt with."

"You did?"

"Liara told me about it." And he knew she had the Broker's assets in her ear, so there was no _real_ secret keeping from her. He'd have been surprised if Liara, and thus the commander herself, hadn't been aware of Omega's conquest virtually as soon as it _fell_. "How are you doing? Grapevine says that some shit went down when you captured Petrovsky."

"Aria refused to let him surrender." He explained shortly, hands curling into fists at his side as he spoke. His voice didn't waver, though, and for that he was proud of himself. "So I killed her to save him, and further the plans against Cerberus. She wasn't expecting it, trusted me, and I stabbed her in the back."

"Shit…" The woman chewed a lip for a minute, watching him, and sighed. Knowing him, she didn't bother reinforcing that it was the right decision to make. Instead, she offered a small smile and asked, "And you aren't okay with any of it. Are you?"

"No."

"And you shouldn't be. Stabbing an ally in the back is… Well, about as fucked up as it gets, really." The woman acknowledged, nodding curtly along with the statement but then shrugging. As though she were dismissing her own words, she added firmly, "But sometimes what's fucked up is what's right for everyone involved. You can regret that it had to be done, but do _not_ regret doing it."

"I don't." He assured her, "I just… Feel shitty over it."

"Then feel shitty, but don't let it break you down." She counseled, smirking when a thought occurred and then sighing. "Fuck knows I know about feeling shitty and pushin' through it. You do too, John." She tapped her head, "I know you do, and not just 'cus Mama Shepard knows everything."

"Yeah." You couldn't serve the UNSC and _not_ do anything that you didn't like. And they both knew that he would get over it eventually. "I just wanted to tell you myself, I guess."

"I get that." She nodded, face splitting in a wild, almost manic sort of smile. "Now, wanna hear the crazy shit I've been up to out here? Because I gotta say, crazy as my kind of crazy tends to be, this takes the cake."

"I find that hard to believe…"

"I made friends with giant space squids that made the Reapers, and they can control 'em." He only blinked, surprised by the ludicrous claim, and the woman barked a laugh. "No, yeah, I know. It's fuckin' crazy, and my head is _still_ splitting from how it talked to me. Psychic bullshit," she explained when he cocked his head to the side, "they talk in your brain, and _gods_ does it hurt."

"Are you alright?"

"No, yeah, I'll be fine." She waved him off, "Chakwas just says it's making me irritable and more sweary than normal."

"She's not wrong."

"Fuck off!"

"Judge, I present exhibit A…"

"I may be lightyears away but I _will_ turn this galactic apocalypse around and bend you over my knee, young man."

"I'm sure the Reapers will put everything on pause for you."

"Hey, I could talk pants _on_ a Reaper and then talk 'em right back off, too. _This_ ass could end a galactic war if I felt up to shakin' it." She laughed, the sound mirthful and predictably infectious, lightening his mood and heartening him the way he'd known talking to the woman would do. The woman was simply too magnetic _not_ to cheer him up. Quietly, she asked, "How much longer did Hackett give you on the QEC?"

"Three minutes." He answered, checking the clock on his Omni-Tool. "It was a favor that got me time to call you at all."

"Hackett cleared you himself as a _favor_?" He nodded and the woman whistled, impressed as much as she was surprised by the idea. "Damn, Doe. And I thought _I_ was the charismatic one. How'd you get Admiral Hackett to start playing favorites?"

"I don't know, Commander." He shrugged, not bothering to point out that he wasn't _really_ playing favorites. Rather, he wanted the ODST in the best shape possible going after what sounded very much like a colony-sized Cerberus investment. Hearing his little warning go off, though, he sighed, "I have to sign off Commander. I hope to see you soon."

"Same." She nodded, "Ideas on when that'll be?"

"Hopefully after this station of Hades, Commander." Assuming, at least, that Hackett didn't have anywhere else for her to be. Having her pursuing Cerberus had all the same politics around it as before but now things were different. And bringing her in for a coffin nailing ceremony seemed fine, even if bringing her in for the rest hadn't. Nodding a farewell, he grunted, "Be safe out there, Ma'am."

"You too." She nodded, her image flickering and dying a moment later as the quantum connection was severed.

Turning to leave, he let out a sigh that was somewhat more content than it would have been fifteen minutes ago. Talking to the Commander had been the balm he expected it to be, and while he still felt somewhat sick over everything that had happened, he no longer felt _as_ bad. He could deal with it, now that he'd had someone properly talk to him. Even if they hadn't talked much about it, the matter still felt more resolved. A soldier by the door nodded an acknowledgement as he left and turned to head towards the disembarkment decks and, from there, to his new home while he took on the next leg of Operation Hades.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to it.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 **Bit of a short chapter, sorry. Not feeling well atm. It isn't the virus, I'm asymptomatic. Just allergy headaches. And besides, this made for a nice down-time chapter.**

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Smokey Panda :**_

 **Glad you enjoy it~!**

 _ **Dr Killinger :**_

 **I feel like it feels unsatisfactory because of what it is compared to. I mean the Rannoch Arc had Javik and before that was the Krogan and such and such. So yeah, I guess it may be a good arc and I'm just overly critical comparing it to other arcs.**

 **Thank you.**

 _ **Rook 115 :**_

 **Hackett stated that if Aria wouldn't let Petrovsky live and Doe saw a way to get around it, he should. Further, he based his opinions on Kandros on Aria's behavior and demeanor. The two things combined made the choice for him. I did explain it a bit in the story here for you and others, though, just o clarify.**

 _ **7th Maniac :**_

 **About that hug from Shepard…**

 **Also, love the analysis. Yeah, he did what he had to because he wasn't Shepard. A bit of show regarding the effect of having DOE around, but not the Commander herself. He can motivate soldiers to, er,** _ **soldier harder**_ **, but Aria is no soldier. He has no edge there.**

 _ **Enji Benjy :**_

 **I kind of forgot as I planned that chapter that he had the Harrier, too, and realized only after planning was done that I had done so. Is meh. As for his VISR? Yeah, it'll get repaired. I merely wanted to establish that he could get hurt and lose tech for the fifteenth time this story because… Raisins.**

 **Glad you enjoyed the chapter though!**

 _ **Nerdy Gal :**_

 **Hope what i did here satisfied, then, and glad you enjoyed it so much. Don't forget about your school stuff though! Lol.**

 _ **A boy and his starship :**_

 **I genuinely don't know. I never actually PLAYED the DLC, so I don't intuitively know it. And while I will consult the wiki and my story plan, I can't guarantee I find space for it. At least, not in this story.**


	44. Operation Hades - Horizon I

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

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The handful of frigates, and their destroyer escorts, made the journey relatively quickly and easily. With the Coalition still pushing from the bulwark that was Omega and all along the Coalition battle line, their smaller task force's progress went largely unmolested. At first, they were escorted by a heavy fleet tasked to relieve a Terminus colony recently fallen to the Reapers, their mercenary protectors pulled away to participate in the siege of Omega without care for the defense of the worlds in question. Aria had demanded they come to do what she ordered and either not considered or been apathetic to the consequences.

An apathy that had resulted in numerous fringe worlds that had been holding against the smaller Reaper task forces falling in short order. Task forces that were far too busy dealing with the dreadnoughts, carriers and other assorted warships trying to liberate the occupied worlds from the Reapers to care about a handful of relatively small ships skirting around the system's edge. Which meant they were safe enough as they sailed, even if watching the lances of red carve apart the allied fleets stirred up memories best left forgotten. Memories that were both his own, and _not_ , owing to his two Bonded and all they had seen.

 _None_ of which he wanted to deal with, and so he busied himself preparing for the coming mission.

Instead, he preferred waiting in the portside fighter bay. A long but somewhat more squat bay which had been _heavily_ modified with three large rail drivers which would raise and fire out the open sides that the fighters used for launch. Inside each of these little railguns sat more of the Coalition drop pods, loaded down and ready for launch at a moment's notice. One bore his Krogan insignia and he spent most of his time beside it at a table he had 'borrowed' and pushed against the bottom of the hull so he could have a space to work at. He'd even brought a cot up and set it at the head of the table, tucked into the corner that his pod launcher made with the wall at their end of the bay. Sleeping out of quarters was, of course, against the regulation handbook.

The same handbook that also disliked him using the Harrier, so he felt more than comfortable to flaunt those particular pages of the rulebook altogether.

"I-I, um, got your helmet, Lieutenant Commander." The anxious little deck assistant said as she approached him, the little helmet clutched in her hands like a lifeline. Still anxious, she held it out for him and explained, "The feedback system that predicts and adjusts for light input was damaged. That's why it did what it, um, did."

"Thank you." While she'd worked on that, he'd been working on the rest of his gear in the portside fighter bay.

He hummed as he adjusted the helmet on his head and ran through the VISR system's capabilities. Once he was satisfied he let the system run on automatic and depolarized the visor itself, turning to talk to the young woman, "It works like new, Miss Beau. The helmet even _looks_ newer than it did before."

"I-It should!" She smiled, pale face stretching in a wide and pleased smile. Hands wringing anxiously, as the woman seemed unable to ever _really_ calm down and relax for whatever reason, she explained, "I replaced the damaged plating section with a special composite we use on our atmo-fighters and light infantry dropships. It's light, but hard enough to deal with small arms. I painted the whole helmet in a fresh matte black for you and redid the Krogan coloring to make it look good."

"You didn't have to do that…"

"I wanted to." She nodded, smiling pleasantly and turning to look up at the pod he was sat beside. "I'm not that confident, I'm always scared in space because… You know, cold vacuum of nothing, lungs yanked out through your teeth, and, um, a-all that."

"Ah." That explained why she was always so anxious then, he suspected. A fear of space travel, and yet she chose to serve in the Navy. Where the dark of space was the only place she could really _expect_ to be deployed. Curiosity overwhelming him, he sighed, "That's understandable. But if you hate space so much, why join the Navy?"

"Because of the Reapers." She answered with a little shrug, grimacing guiltily and going on quietly, eyes down like she expected him to snap at her. "I was, um, never one who believed the Commander back after the Citadel was attacked by the Geth. And then when the Reapers really showed up, I… Felt I owed it to her to do _something_. So I enlisted."

"And since the Alliance and Coalition use tests to determine where to station people, you got sent into the Navy." It made sense and, in a way, was kind of sad at the same time. "At least you seem to be being stationed on safer deployments. The _Everest_ before and now with the little fleet sneaking around. S'pretty good luck."

"I mean, not really. Luck isn't involved all that much…" He raised his eyebrows at the quiet words and the woman flinched, waving her hands in front of her rapidly as though to wave away the words themselves. "I-I mean, um, it's personal, and nothing bad, but… But I don't get these assignments for luck. T-That's all."

"Mhm." She was anxious and hiding something, to be sure. And his curiosity was raging for it, but… It was none of his business, really, beyond worries about Cerberus. But then, he was certain that Admiral Hackett wasn't exactly being _lenient_ with security and background checks. Shrugging, he assured her, "I'm not one to pry where people want things to be left alone. Unless they're on the wrong side of my rifle, at least."

"Yeah." She snorted, actually seeming to relax a bit and letting herself chuckle. "I will… Try to stay on this side, then. Unless, you know, the Reapers offer a better retirement package o-or something."

"I hear it's pretty killer, yeah." He shrugged, taking his helmet back off and setting it on the table while he returned to working on his rifle's internal inertial dampeners.

Seeing him busying himself again, the woman said her goodbye and moved off to get on to whatever task she had to see to next. Namely, judging from where she went, maintenance on one of the rail launchers at the end of the bay. The new technology of the railguns, and that was what he understood them to in essence be, meant that their maintenance and monitoring was more important than normal. Everything was like that at one point or another and while it wasn't a comforting thought, you didn't become a Helljumper while squeamish about something as small as 'virtually certain death'.

He wasn't a _Marine_ , after all.

The rest of their trip passed in a similar manner. Skirting around systems, avoiding Reapers while heavier fleets of varying races and origins fought them, and generally chugging along towards the Cerberus system. All the while he and the rest of the ground crew were busy preparing themselves for what was essentially a colonial invasion. And while their fellows in the other fleets were also preparing for ground invasions, _they_ at least knew what they were walking into more or less.

 _No one_ had any idea what Sanctuary would look like after so many bodies and supplies being sent to it. Some suggested the system would be a fortress system like Tuchanka was rapidly becoming. Others felt that it was what the online advertisements that had been circling primarily Human Extranet sources said, and served as a refugee camp of sorts for Humans under Cerberus' protection. No one knew, though, and so all they could do was prepare as best as they could for _whatever_ came. And _that_ meant that they were taking yet another leaf from his, or rather the UNSC's, book.

Partner drop teams inserted by SOIEV pods to recon and assault in tandem to see what was going on down on the planet's surface. And gods, but he didn't like his partner...

"Just sayin', jumpin' out of a goddamn ship in a tin can sounds like a good way to blow up or turn into a spot on the ground." Zaeed Massani, an old mercenary of apparently high enough repute to have once served under Commander herself. An aggravating, scarred, semi-blind old codger if he'd ever met one, who he wouldn't have believed worked for Shepard if not for her memories lodged in his head.

"Rapid insertion means we can be where we're needed as soon as needed." He argued as he once again broke down the integrated scope system and then began piecing it back together meticulously, more running through it for something to do than anything else. And to ignore the horrible music blaring from another Drop Specialist down the line who'd set up a radio. Turian music, apparently... "Point, shoot, weapons on the ground."

"Talkin' about us or our guns?"

"Yes." He answered simply, snapping the scope back together quickly and sliding it back onto his rifle. Giving the man a look in his piece-meal armor he grimaced and asked, "How much are you being paid to be here?"

"More 'n I expected, less 'n I'm worth. Same old same old, even if Jane's good word signs a few more checks for me 'n I might'a otherwise got." The man shrugged, still staring at the rows of railguns and chewing on a straw. Finally he gave the armored ODST a look and asked, quietly, "Say, what's the landin' casualty rate on these coffins anyway?"

"Depends." He answered quietly, recalling the old ratios from boot camp and regurgitating them on automatic. "Ten percent die on impact or in the atmosphere for a handful of reasons. Another ten to flack and bad landings, either crushing on impact or landing where the soldiers can't get out of it."

"Damn…" The man whistled, shaking his head and snorting in a grim sort of amusement. "And you crazy sons just hop on in and fall on down?"

"Feet first into hell." He nodded, collapsing his Harrier down and sliding along the table to set to work on his Krogan knife. A knife whose handle needed rewrapping which gave him time to keep talking, since the mercenary seemed so set on bothering him. "And we don't pick which hell our feet end up in. Not our job."

"Yeah?" The man cocked his head, looking at him with his only good eye and frowning so deeply it warped his entire face into something more akin to a Gargoyle. And a Gargoyle that had been shot once or twice at that. "And what's our job then mister 'ours is not to question why'? 'Cuz it sounds like our job is _very_ expensive suicide with a side of gambling. Isn't that right, lil' bit?"

"T-The odds aren't really that bad." The mechanic said from her position on top of his pod, the front open while she checked the seals for the last time. She'd of course already checked, as had he, but anxious and bored ahead of a coming fight, she'd decided to _recheck_ them in the eleventh hour. Scowling she added, quieter, "And don't call me that! My _name_ is Staff Officer Beau to you, mercenary."

"Yeah, but you don't stammer so much if I piss ya off." Whatever counter the woman would have had died as the ship shuddered and the bay's lights shifted. All along the deck, ready green lights flared to life brightly. The radio died as Zaeed stood, looking around, "That ain't good… Thought you said we weren't gettin' in those deathtraps for another hour."

"We aren't." Doe answered, slamming the knife home and frowning. The ship shuddered a second time and the lights flickered, an alarm ripping through the ship as pilots began scrambling into their fighters wherever space had been left for them. Grabbing his Harrier he looked up and shouted commandingly, "Beau, catch!"

"Catch wha- Oh my lord!" She scrambled but managed to catch the blocky, collapsed rifle. Apparently getting the idea, she turned to slot it in and next caught his M7 when he tossed it up to her. Grabbing his spare ammunition and sliding them into his storage he started climbing the ladder up while the woman called down and Zaeed ran to his own pod, "I-Is that all you have to- Oh, you're up here."

"I am." He confirmed, sliding by and stepping into the pod as the ship shuddered violently. She stood on the top to try and get around him and toward the ladder, and he watched her, "Be careful, Miss Beau. You don't want to fall."

"Yep!" The woman nodded, watching her footing and waving him off, "I got it."

Down the line, the armored exteriors of the hangar bay opened up. Atmospheric barriers kicked in to keep the room pressurised, but the Alliance interceptors docked in the ship shot out without any problems. Overhead, another alarm began to scream a 'brace' warning a moment before the ship shuddered _violently_. So much so that had he not stood and reached out, snagging the woman by a fistful of her uniform's front, she would have fallen. Whatever had hit them, the ship groaned and its lights flickered and died, emergency lighting taking over as the alarm died.

"All crew to last stations or abandon ship." The ship's intercom sparked, only just carrying over another violent quake. Whatever had been hit, and by _what_ ever, the intercom came out staticy and weak next. As though something key in the system had been damaged, but not severed wholly. "Drop units to -r pods. Emergency laun- will occur -all pods in -minutes along- -de oe- Pro-! We are facing -per contacts! Re- -t -per contacts!"

"Oh lord I-I have to-" Beau tried to yank free but he didn't let her and, panicking, she grabbed his arm, "Let go, I have to get to a lifeboat before-"

"There's no time." He grunted as the ship shuddered once again, the bulkheads over several hallways towards the front of the ship suddenly slamming down. She pulled once more but he pulled harder, yanking her down and over his shoulder as the ship shook. Kneeling and letting her slide off he explained simply, "The nearest bank of lifeboats are one hundred and fifty yards from here, and bordered by the mess area. By the time you could even get there, assuming the ship weren't destroyed, they'd all have launched."

"B-But these are made for one person!" She argued, face rapidly twisting in panic as the ship shuddered and another alarm ripped through, warning them that the ship was about to go down. Another sound chimed and the pod lifted, door sliding forward and closing automatically, forcing the woman down and into his arms. "W-Where do I even- Oh god, it's so small! I-I can't-"

"Breathe." He ordered, taking his seat and dragging her onto his lap. While he strapped them both down, he ordered, "Run it through before you panic, soldier. Is the pod atmo-sealed?"

"Y-Yes."

"Then take a breath, calm down, and _stop_ wiggling." He growled, both hands working to adjust her into a more secure seat on his armored thigh and then strapping them down. At his barked order she stilled finally and he sighed working on checking his gear as the ship trembled and the pod locked into place. Satisfied, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his chest to hold her still, reassuring her, "We'll be fine. We'll launch and hit the dirt, and I'll protect you."

"Y-You will?"

"Of course." She was a noncombatant, not trained or equipped for combat, so it would be hard. But, "If you follow my orders, trust me, and don't panic, then we will both come out of this with our heads on our shoulders. I've been deployed against far worse than whatever we'll see down there. Can you use a sidearm?"

"Y-Yeah." She nodded against his armored chest, the ODST only able to see it for the hair obscuring his lower vision shifting. "Self defence classes in case… Yeah we, um, we learned to use Predators mainly. But I don't have my- God!"

As they launched she screamed, descending into a fit as the little metal pod was launched forward through the kinetic barriers of the ship. Inside a heartbeat, the pod's trembling ceased and they were left spinning through the vacuum. This made the small woman panic, her fear of the vacuum of space coming to the fore, and he pulled her against him more firmly for it, pinning her against him so she couldn't accidentally pop the hatch ro fire the thrusters. Both of which would likely have killed them.

Around them, the battle continued, interceptors and Oculus fighters screaming through the vacuum and ripping each other to pieces while a trio of Reaper destroyers and as many frigates tore apart their small fleet. Behind them the world was lit by blue fire that cast their little pod in the stark, pale whites and blues of a warship's death. Their masking torpedoes and fellow pods sailed under a Reaper destroyer as they passed, some of the former slamming into it to as little effect as could be expected. The rest, and almost all the pods, though, sailed on towards the somewhat distant planet.

What they'd see down there, with the Reapers in-system, he didn't know. But whatever _was_ down there was in for a new hell if it thought it would hurt the trembling woman crammed into his pod with him. Shepard would _kill_ him if he let anything happen, after all.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"Once the task force reached the system, the Reapers were on them. A small force, but then, so was ours, and _one_ of those sides had surprise on their hand." And, much to Hackett's regret and dismay, it hadn't been theirs. That his intelligence officers hadn't known that there were Reapers in the system galled him, and he'd already set to work finding out how that had slipped their net. "The nearest fleet of the kind of tonnage needed to move in without wasting the ships is a week away, and moving them would compromise a planet's security."

"And we can't compromise a planet's security for however many of our people are alive." Shepard nodded, voice frosty even through the distortion of the QEC's audio synthesizer. She wasn't hurling insults, though, so he counted his lucky stars and simply nodded. "Why are you contacting me then, Admiral?"

"Because according to the last transmissions they were enacting the Doe Protocol and the Groundfall Protocol." He answered cleanly, glad to be able to offer at least _some_ good news to balm the overall wound. "They dumped all their logs to hide their orders, set their reactor to hit the Reapers, and ejected their drop pods and lifeboats towards the planet along with a flight of torpedos, dumped trash- Everything they could use to mask their purpose and get as many crew planetside as possible."

"The Doe Protocol?" She chuckled, shaking her head. "I'm sure John liked that particular name.

"Couldn't exactly call it the 'Cole Protocol' and have it make any real sense, and the gist of protecting information was too good not to." Hackett shrugged, "And it was his idea, at least in principle. The name is kind of apropos, too, given we mask information about ourselves in the process. Like a 'John Doe'."

"I suppose you have a point." She shrugged, too icy at the moment to be willing to talk. He couldn't say he didn't understand _why_ , of course, but still. Instead, she prompted him, "What are my orders then, Sir? I'm assuming leave on the Citadel is being put on hold."

"Complaining?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Not at all, if it means pulling my crew out of the fire."

"I thought as much." He didn't need Doe's special access to her head to know how the woman was, nor Anderson's more personal involvement in her life. Instead, he banked on his instincts when it came to his soldiers. "I'm ordering you and the _Normandy_ to move on Horizon as fast as possible. Coordinate with the fleet to arrange a supply pickup point en route, I want you headed _directly_ there at all speed. Find out what Sanctuary is, and get our people out of there."

"Priority?"

"As high as you make it." Hackett answered instantly, already expecting the question, "I'm writing you a blank check on this one. You get there and order the Coalition Fleet in and damn the Terminus, I'll pull every single goddamn one of my ships off the line and into the system."

"This mission is that important?"

"It is now, Commander. I was wondering why the Reapers seemed not to give a damn about us hammering the Terminus, and now I find out there's a fleet over some random backwoods Cerberus colony?" He shook his head and pursed his lips, making clear just how displeased he was about this turn of events. A sentiment that Shepard seemed to mirror, judging from her deep frown and angry scowl. "Get there and save whoever's left. Find out what was going on, and call in the cavalry. I'm already maneuvering one of the new special task groups to be ready."

"The orbs?"

"Yeah, Commander. The orbs." As creepy as they were, and as much as he didn't like letting the Reaper's _makers_ go scott free after everything, but for now they were too effective a weapon to not use them. Thankfully, the Creators seemed more intent on revenge than self-empowerment, directing Reapers under their thrall into _suns_ after they'd exhausted their use and the orbs began to lose their hold on them. "I'm issuing you one in your supply as well, Commander. Don't use it unless you _need_ it. We only have so many of them, and they're hard to manufacture."

"Understood, Admiral." She nodded, already impatiently tapping a foot she likely thought he couldn't see. "With your permission I-"

"Yes, go, pull their asses out of the fire and find out what is going on down on that planet." He chuckled, dismissing the call once the woman nodded her understanding of it.

Turning, he took a deep breath and left the room, ignoring the gentle quake that went through his ship as the dregs of the Cerberus transport fleet they'd run across fired into the _Everest's_ far more potent barriers. Such a fight wasn't one he was needed for, luckily, which meant he'd been able to make his call without worry. Nice in that he had been able to get more done, _not nice_ because he'd had to risk pissing off Shepard.

 _That_ anger, for now, seemed to be aimed squarely at Sanctuary now. And for that, he was only able to sigh in relief.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 **I have my own YT channel set up now under the same name as here. By the time this chapter goes up, there will be a handful of videos up. Feel free to check it out and hope you enjoy what I got here and there. Have a good one~!**

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Whippygecko :**_

 **I have an upload schedule listed in a channel in my discord, yes.**

 _ **Chance (Guest) :**_

 **I don't know what you mean, I'm sorry. Could you name the characters in question?**

 _ **.1 :**_

 **I haven't actually considered it? I dunno. Probably a good number, though. XD**

 _ **Predator :**_

 **I… Hadn't considered that, actually. May I ask why?**

 _ **Spartan 10007 :**_

 **Glad you liked it!**

 _ **Ghost titan :**_

 **Trying to avoid such because I have a habit of making OCs since I would wanna murder 'em. Zaeed would make sense, though. Hmm…**

 _ **Enji benjy :**_

 **Nope! Made a good ol' fashioned whoopsie doodle. Also, it's not a scouting mission, it's a seek and destroy mission.**


	45. Operation Hades - Horizon II

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

_**Official Supporters:**_

 _ **Priests,**_ **The Impossible Muffin** _ **,**_ **Xager the Chaos King.**

 _ **Adeptus,**_ **Private Wilger**

 _ **Ze Nope Rope,**_ **Kaiser Snek, Snekiest Snek**

 _ **Acolytes,**_ **DigiDemonLord** _ **,**_ **Cheeseberry**

 _ **Initiates,**_ **Greg Gibson, Espa Cole** _ ****_

 _ **If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our private server for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, please leave me a comment to let me know if you did, or where I can improve. Link here, where able to be seen :**_ _ **/2UZncAm**_

 _ **Second link here, remove ( and ) and it SHOULD work : D(i) (slash)kfhkfUb**_

 _ **I have a kofi account now, too, under this name for those interested.**_

 _ **Beta(s) : Darkvampirekisses**_

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 **Troll in the Reviews-**

 **So like Couer, I have a troll in my reviews. Soda something, doesn't matter. Ignore 'em, report 'em for spam, is up to you. Enjoy the story!**

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

Flaming and spinning, they screamed - quite literally in the little technician's case - into the planet's upper atmosphere. The turbulence ramped up swiftly and though the straps, and his arm pressing against her chest to keep her against his other bicep, kept her from shaking around the pod, he heard her teeth begin chattering. Untrained for a drop like this, the risk of her shattering her teeth or biting her own tongue off when the turbulence _really_ ramped sprang to mind.

Grimacing, he slid his hand up her chest and over her mouth, forcing the side of his hand behind his pinky into her mouth so she had something to prevent her teeth beating each other into pieces or cutting her mouth apart. She turned a look on him, frightened and confused, but he ignored it and grabbed the controls for the pod with his less occupied hand. In his galaxy and in this one, steering was already handled automatically, but old habits died harder than _he_ did.

And besides, he would _not_ let them burn up with her on board.

For pure luck, or divine intervention maybe, his pod's navigation software told him that the landing zone was this side of the planet. Roughly twenty miles of forest north and east of where Petrovksy's records showed his various shipments being delivered to. Unwanted companion or no, he steered further south, aiming where he'd been ordered to, and worked to keep their path straight through the wind currents and turbulence. As they descended through the last few hundred feet, he released the throttle.

Instead, he wrapped the arm around Beau's hips, holding her against him as they slammed through trees and into soil with the force of a missile.

They hit something and the pod _rocked_ , wrenching forward and tumbling end over end for a long half-minute before hitting something else and snapping to a stop. Fortunately, through the glass portions of the pod, he could make out blue sky and leaves beyond his pod's smoke. Past his feet, he saw stone, dirt and the dented metal of his pod's front end, crushed slightly from the impact. He could only be thankful it hadn't given way and crushed them both completely…

A concern he spared the trembling woman biting down on his armored glove so hard it ached. Instead, he prompted her gently, voice barely more than a murmur, "I need that hand for the hatch ejection systems, Miss Beau."

"Mph." Shyly, she nodded and let the pressure off, the ODST shaking his hand to loosen the joints she had done a _very_ good job at making stiff. Watching him do so she murmured a simple, quiet, "S-Sorry, Doe."

"Don't be. You haven't done anything wrong." He grunted as he flicked switches and the pneumatics began to hiss, trying and obviously failing to open the pod more quietly. Hand hesitating over the release, he looked down at the back of her head. Quietly, he asked, "Are you ready? We didn't make a quiet entry, and as much as I plan on protecting you, I have orders to see to."

"I-I know." She nodded, hair brushing across his visor. "I'll do my best. That's… All I can say."

"Look at me."

"What-"

"Look at me." He repeated, hitting the release on his - _their_ \- harness so she could sit up. And sit up she did, if only just, so she could turn to meet his gaze through his helmet. "You might have missed it, but you already died, Beau." Her eyes narrowed in a mix of panic and confusion and he explained, "Up on that ship. We delayed you and if we hadn't, you'd have gone down with it."

"T-That's not exactly, um, _comforting_ …"

"You survived that." He pushed on, ignoring her trembling and anxiety filled eyes both. "You, afraid, without armor or kinetic barriers or biotics, unarmed and terrified of space. Then you hurtled into a planet's atmosphere at somewhere approaching the speed of _sound_ and lived. You stay behind me, you do what I say how and when I say it, and you will survive this, too."

"That's…" She swallowed, glancing down and seemingly suddenly more conscious of the fact she was laid on top of him. A fact her wriggling, adjusting and panicking had made _overtly_ abundant to him throughout their short time in the pod. "Well, uh, t-that's a bit… _More_ comforting. Uh, Sir."

"Brace." He warned, flicking a switch that sent his hatch rocketing into the air and away with a 'whumpf'. She squeaked in fear and ducked down into his chest, and he chuckled, patting her back awkwardly and then pushing her, rolling them so he was on top of her. Yanking his M7S from its holster he gave her a nod. "I'll make sure everything is clear and we'll get going."

"O-Okay." She nodded, tucking her knees into her chest and forcing a smile. "I'll, um, cheer you on I guess?"

"Get my sidearm." He instructed, hearing the question in her words. "Familiarise yourself as best you can in case we come under fire."

While she pulled the weapon from its holster and went over it, sharp eyes rapidly taking the little machine in and cataloguing its functions, he slid his knee under him and pulled his weapon across his chest. A deep breath came and went from his lungs and then he stood, feet in the seat of his pod and knees bent so his shoulders and head just peeked over the armored lip of the metal craft.

The pod had slammed into the top of a rocky hill, he realized quickly, which had sent them tumbling the way they had been for a dozen yards or so. Tumbling down the hill, it had slammed into another outcropping of rock, beyond which the ground flattened and greened with grass and trees. Around their rocky, steep and muddy hill, the forest rolled, green and wooded with only a few spots like this in the distance, barely able to be made out by his naked eye.

It just figured that they would hit the one rough spot for what looked like a mile in any direction…

"No hostiles to be seen, at least." He reported, glad that at least there weren't any enemies that he could see. Gently, though, he rested a gloved hand against the outer hull and sighed. Thick and insulated, the heat of the metal could still be felt even through it. Kneeling, he spoke to her in the safety of the little pod, "Hood's too hot for you to climb out, though. Your service suit isn't insulated well enough."

"S-So what do we do?" She asked, "I-I can't- _We_ can't, I mean, stay here to wait for it to cool. Can we?"

"No." Even with the land battle he was sure was going on between Cerberus and the Reapers, they couldn't be sure that _one_ of those wouldn't come looking. Drumming his finger on a thigh, he thought quickly. "Give me my rifle and equipment. We need to move."

"O-Okay."

His weapons on his back, he motioned for her to stand and she did, pressed against him for the awkwardness of their footing. Climbing onto the hull he knelt, offering both his hands to her and pulling her up and over his shoulder. Awkwardly, nearly falling when his boots hit the rocky soil, he slid down the hull of the drop pod and dropped her back on her feet. Free of the pod, he gave her a look and a nod.

"Are you ready?"

"As I can be." She nodded, holding a sidearm that looked far larger in her hands shakily in front of her chest. "But, um, how do I reload this…?"

"Give it here." He ordered, taking his sidearm from her and swiftly running her through a simple reload. Handing it back he ordered her to do it once and then twice, when she awkwardly fumbled with chambering the new round from the fresh reload. Satisfied, he rolled his shoulders and pointed up the hill, back the way they'd hurtled from. "Sanctuary is that way. That's where we're headed."

"R-Right." She nodded, shakily taking the extra magazines he handed her while they talked. Fumbling, she stuck them into her pockets and asked, "So, um, should we… Get going, then?"

"Yes." He nodded, glancing to her grip on the pistol and chiding. "Finger on the side, not the trigger, or you'll misfire."

"R-Right." She nodded, adjusting her hold, "Sorry."

"Mhm." She was terrified, and so didn't need to apologize. But better to move than to argue the point. "Hopefully, we'll find Zaeed on the way. I don't like him, but…"

"He's a gun on our side." She offered, the ODST turning a look on her that made her suddenly anxious. "R-Right?"

He only nodded and drew his Harrier, taking the lead and expecting her to follow behind him. Silent, afraid and anxious, she followed a ways behind him. A decision which he thought to be more than fine, since that meant _he_ would run into any threats that came before they could see her. They made it for five minutes before the distant sound of gunfire began to break across the silent forest and he turned to give her a look.

"I-I'm ready." She nodded, lips trembling in a way that told him she _very much wasn't_.

"I see that." He lied, thankful for his polarized visor. Turning, he prepared himself and ordered, "Double time, then. Keep up with me, but stay behind. We hit a fight, you find cover and _stay_ in it."

"Got it." She chuckled, "Hide while you do the heavy lifting. I can, um, do that."

What they found twenty minutes later was a lifepod, launched on the same trajectory as them and hurled on by the explosion of its ship. It had hurtled down and slammed into a clearing, and taking cover in the trench it had carved, a half-dozen forms lay splayed out in the mud. Some were still, blue and black suits stained by red, and others crawled and clutched at weapons while their white-armored killers stalked the field and lazily put them down.

"W-What do we do?" The woman with him whispered, hiding behind the thick bank of trees they'd taken for cover.

"We leave." He answered simply, giving her a long look and wincing as the Cerberus rifles barked. "They're already dead, and we can't afford to risk fighting them."

"B-But they're-" The loud _crack_ of a rifle far heavier than the Cerberus submachine guns split the air and cut her off, a black helmet exploding in metal and gore as its owner was pitched to the side and into the dirt.

The soldiers reacted swiftly, spreading out and looking through the forest around them for the shooter. One paused as he spotted them, or more likely the less stealth conscious woman with him, but he did little more than point before a burst from John's Harrier slammed into his chest. At this range the rounds mostly sparked harmlessly off heavy armor, but one caught his shoulder with a telltale spray of red. The man fell, wounded enough not to be able to fight but still alive, and he turned the next burst on one of his fellows.

Answering fire sprayed across their trees from the half-dozen survivors and he snarled, grabbing his partner and dragging her behind him. Body between her and them, and his shields sparking intermittently for the oncoming fire, he hurled her roughly into the dirt. She curled up into a ball and he slammed to the side, seeking the marginal protection the thick pseudo-Oak offered while mass accelerator fire ripped into it. Occasionally, rounds sparked off his shields, but it did its job.

' _Though not for long'_ , he mused as the damned unfortunates began to spread out, seeking angles that would let them kill him. ' _And that damn sniper doesn't seem intent on helping…'_

While two stayed in the center, seeking to suppress him each time he even hinted at wanting to step out, the others fanned out to either side in an orderly fashion. Stepping right from his cover, he snapped off poorly aimed bursts into and around one of those flankers. He flinched, but aside from a single trickle of red from his shoulder, the ODST's rounds found little but the heavy armor they wore. And while equally inaccurate, the volume of fire sprayed towards him quickly sapped his shields, draining them in the scant seconds it took for him to slam back into cover behind the tree.

' _One bad engagement is all it takes,'_ The old adage went, ' _and then you're dead.'_

Caught on the back foot, outnumbered and in poor, rapidly disintegrating cover, this was certainly a bad engagement. This tree was his only cover, but it wasn't _only_ his. And only one of them had shields, or even armor, to protect them.

Stepping out of cover again he raised his rifle and began an awkward sort of dance, ducking, stepping to the left and firing his rifle intermittently as he moved. His shields sparked and one Cerberus soldier fell, clutching his throat from a hole torn by a lucky round. He turned his Harrier on the next and, finally, the marksman joined the fight again, one of the duo in the center pitching forward as the back of his neck exploded and nearly decapitated him. Seeing his gruesome death, two of the soldiers stood and turned, looking for the sharpshooter now they knew _he_ wasn't.

As the next fell under his inaccurate torrent of fire, his shields _and_ Harrier whined in protest, spent and dropping. One into the dirt, and the other into uselessness. A burst carved across his chest and he grunted as it pitched him back, sinking to a knee and curling so his armor took more of the incoming fire. Drawing his M7 he tucked the grip into the crook of his elbow, using it to hold his aim steady in place of his hand.

At this range most of his rounds went wide, spraying across his enemy's chest and helmet inaccurately and doing little more than stagger him. At least it made his answering fire less accurate, sparking along the ODST's shoulder and armored legs and finding little purchase. Finally they each found lucky gaps, the white armored soldier pitching back as John once again punched a round through his opponent's throat.

However, an answering round just skirted by the lower part of his greave, carving through the side of his calf, drawing a snarl from him and off-balancing him. The second to last Cerberus Trooper cried out as a shot caught him at the back of his knee, ripping it off and sending him tumbling. The final, though, gave up on finding and killing the marksman and instead turned on him, a burst slamming into his chest that had obviously been intended to kill him but only managed to pitch him onto his back.

He stayed on his back as another round cracked the air, sighing as a familiar voice shouted out, "You dead, dumbass? Cuz I ain't watchin' the little chit for you if you are."

"J-John!" Said 'little chit' shouted, filling his vision now that the gunfire had stopped. Bent over him and clearly panicked, she started to demand, voice angry and firmer than he'd ever heard her. "What the hell was that?! You ran out of cover! E-Even _I_ know not to do that in the middle of a d-damn firefight!"

"They were flanking me. I had to move or they'd just shoot me from both sides, and I'd be stuck." He answered, sitting up and looking at his bloodied leg with a frown. To the technician he asked, quietly, "Know first aid?"

"Oh fuck me, y-you're bleeding!" Scooting around and dropping his sidearm in the dirt, she set to work trying to

Zaeed, armor 'clean' looking in the same way it had been when they left, came sauntering towards them sans whatever rifle he'd been using to kill them. "What happened to your big gun?"

"Big gun?" Zaeed asked as he stepped by him and stooped, turning and dropping his discarded Harrier onto the ground next to him. He spared it a glance and then turned to the mercenary to only grinned, "Found this for ya. That'll be five hundred credits when yer not, ya know, bleeding out."

"Nevermind, Zaeed..." He sighed as his armor came off and the woman set to work, taking the Medi-Gel he offered her. While she applied it, and ripped off a sleeve to wrap around his leg 'just in case', he asked, "Zaeed, can you check on the other soldiers-"

"Yeah, sure, boss." The man scanned the still bodies, Coalition and otherwise, and sighed, shaking his head resignedly. "They're dead."

"You didn't even look!" Beau challenged angrily while she tied her sleeve around John's shin. "They might be alive you- You _ass_!"

"Listen, techie, there's more patrols on the way." Zaeed cut in, before Beau could argue with him. Meek and out of place in a warzone, she clamped up as soon as he snarled at her. John, seeing this, sat up and leaned to the side as though to shield her, and Zaeed sighed. Shaking his head, he explained, "None of 'em are movin'. Which means they're hurt enough to need serious tending. The kind we can't do with the whole 'hiding for our lives' schtick we got goin' on."

"Hiding?" He asked as the woman strapped his armor back into place and turned to get his pistol.

"Mission's off, dumbass." Zaeed nodded, offering him a hand up and shaking his head tiredly. When he glanced to the hand for a long moment and then looked back to him, the man spat and shook his head. More angrily, he explained, "Signal went out after we got shot outta the ship. Orders are to hide, avoid the bastards and wait on 'an update', the fuck that means."

"We should still-"

"No, he's right. They're too far gone." This time, when the mercenary offered his hand, John took it and let himself be hauled upright. Pain lanced up his calf and he winced, throwing his weight on his other leg and then easing it back onto his wounded one. It burned like fire yet, but he was able to stay on his feet regardless, ignoring it. "We need to clear out and fast. Too fast to tend to critically wounded soldiers."

"But-"

"First rule of being an ODST." He grunted simply, laying a hand on her shoulder gently, "If something, or some _one_ , isn't useful then you leave it behind unless you can spare the effort. If they get in your way, though…"

"You leave 'em behind and get on with it." Zaeed grunted, mouth opening to add something else and then clicking shut as the sound of engines began to fill the air. Turning, he put a single round into the legless, groaning Cerberus soldier and then barked, "Time to fuckin' go, kids."

Hesitant, but _more_ than motivated by the new Cerberus threat, the technician was quick to nod. She clearly disliked it but faced with her more experienced superior's orders, and the threatening engine noises, she acquiesced easily enough. And, following their older fellow's lead, they turned to head North instead of South. Away from Sanctuary as much as he disliked it and, more importantly, away from the angry Cerberus buzzing.

A few miles north they found a small cave, recessed into a mountain and hidden from view by a close, tightly grown copse of trees that had grown right outside the cave entrance. Not ideal, to say the least, but somewhere they could settle in for a while to wait on his leg to heal and reinforcements to show up regardless.

"We can barely fit in here…" Beau complained quietly while they squeezed in, armor and all. The little cave was twice as tall as they were but, unfortunately, only half a man wider than them at best.

"It'll do." He grunted, looking over his bound leg and reaching up to remove his helmet. The cool air of the cave at least felt nice, and he enjoyed it while he set to the next task. "I have a week's rations in protein bars, but no water. Zaeed?"

"Few days 'n a canteen." The man answered, sat in the opening to the cave and watching the forest. "Also, we don't gotta all sleep in here or nothin', girl-"

"I told you my name and rank, damn it! Maybe use them once in a while?" She shouted snappishly at him, running her hands through her ragged, sweaty hair and glaring at the man. The man whistled and nodded, shaking his head in the way of someone surprised and impressed, and she turned back to John on her other side and furthest from the door. "Right, so, food and water. Keep going while I… Try not to break down."

"We have a few days of food, but not enough water." He sighed, watching her pinch the bridge of her nose. It all had to be too much for her, he supposed… "Zaeed, drop your rations and scout for water, maybe something edible if you can manage it, would you?"

"Am I gettin' paid for it?"

"Yes." He grunted, somewhat irritable himself. Between his leg and their apparently failed mission, he was himself rather aggravated. And yet, annoyingly enough, the old mercenary seemed downright _cheery_. "You actually are. And if you do it without giving either of us a headache, then I'll arrange a bonus for you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He had enough back pay saved up from just… _Not spending it_ , really, that he could probably drop a good chunk on him if needs be. Though he doubted anything would actually come from it. "Just go."

The old man snapped a lazy, no doubt insulting salute and was gone, off into the forest in search of anything useful. In his wake, the other two were quiet until the technician realized how close they were and how much space there was and scooted away. Watching the cave entrance with her back pressed into a corner, she tucked her legs against her chest and murmured something he didn't hear.

"I-I just said thank you." She answered when he asked her what she'd said, staring at her feet with a pinched face. Tucking her hair behind and ear and then sighing frustratedly when it did precisely nothing. "You saved me, even though I'm a liability."

"My leg disagrees, Miss Beau." He pointed out, hoping her lack of experience would keep her from realizing that she was to blame for it. At least in part, since he'd abandoned cover to keep _her_ from being found. When she didn't say anything, and more seriously, he went on, "You're a specialist with the drop specialists. We need you."

"Yeah." She gave him a look and grimaced, like she'd seen something she didn't like. "I-I guess that's enough, yeah. You, um, think we'll be okay here, though? L-Like, it's just a cave, so..."

"Just settle in, Miss Beau." He grunted instead of answering, whether by lying or not, and leaning his head back against the small cave's wall and letting his eyes close. Tired and sore, he almost sighed, "We're going to be here for a while, I feel like. But we'll be fine."

"Really?" She asked anxiously, "You're sure?"

"Yes." Not really, but he was certain _enough_ to feel good about the white lie if it made her feel better. Curious, and looking for something to distract her, he asked, "Are you alright, though?"

"Sure." She laughed harshly, resting her chin on her knees and sniffling as though on the verge of tears. "I'm just fine. I-I've had to ride through space on your lap, sprint around a forest for hours, abandon my comrades, and now I'm crammed in a little cave. A-And I'm happy, and what does that say?"

"That you're happy to be alive." He answered simply, not even opening his eyes. "And I intend to keep it that way. Now I'm going to get some rest and I suggest you do too."

"Yeah." She murmured, sounding tired and shifting as she settled in to follow his example. He spared her a look, curling up on her side with her feet pointed towards him, and she smiled at him when she saw him checking on her. "That's… That's a good idea, yeah. And thanks again, for saving me."

"Mhm." He nodded, closing his eyes again and settling in to get his rest.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 **Typical advisory-**

 **I suck at gunfights.** _ **Especially**_ **ones in the open that I let happen because I'm a dumbass. This will precede a timeskip to Shepard's arrival, so I wanted to establish what the trio would be, generally speaking, up to in the interim.**

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Rysen (Guest) :**_

 **Thank you. For reading and for the compliment.**

 _ **Rvbrwby :**_

 **Yeaaaaah, mental health doesn't seem high on his list of priorities, do it? Lol. That said, I cannae confirm ships and character stuff. Glad you like the OC tho!**

 _ **Good Guesser (Guest) :**_

 **Maaaaaaybe it was 'Die for the Cause'~?**

 _ **Chance (Guest) :**_

 **Fixed.**

 _ **Foxcomm :**_

 **Would have been a good detail. Damn shame I didn't think of it but added some here. XD**


	46. Operation Hades - Horizon III

_**XxX-XxX-XxX**_

_**Official Supporters:**_

 _ **Priests,**_ **The Impossible Muffin** _ **,**_ **Xager the Chaos King.**

 _ **Adeptus,**_ **Private Wilger**

 _ **Ze Nope Rope,**_ **Kaiser Snek, Snekiest Snek**

 _ **Acolytes,**_ **DigiDemonLord** _ **,**_ **Cheeseberry**

 _ **Initiates,**_ **Greg Gibson, Espa Cole** _ ****_

 _ **If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our private server for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, please leave me a comment to let me know if you did, or where I can improve. Link here, where able to be seen :**_ _ **/2UZncAm**_

 _ **Second link here, remove ( and ) and it SHOULD work : D(i) (slash)kfhkfUb**_

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 _ **Beta(s) :**_

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 **I put this on a one-rotation Hiatus for some planning stuff I realized I had to do, and real life shenanigans. Sorry about that,** _ **but**_ **I** _ **can**_ **say that** _ **next**_ **chapter will be the Horizon finale. From there we will go to the** _ **Hades**_ **finale, and from** _ **there**_ **the** _ **next**_ **arc.**

 **The next arc's name? Operation : Prodigal Children**

 **However, before that and courtesy of Predator1701, a snippert of the song from the Drop Bay a couple chapters back-**

' **there was blood upon the risers, their brains upon the chute. intestines were a dangling from his orbital drop suit.**

 **He was a mess, they picked him up and poured him from his boots.**

 **And he ain't gonna jump no more.**

 **gory gory what a hell of a way to die**

 **Gory gory what a hell of a way to die**

 **gory gory what a hell of a way to die**

 **And he ain't gonna jump no more.'**

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"Drop out and burn hard away from the Relay, on a circle around towards the operational zone on-planet." Shepard ordered quietly as they approached the Relay to the Iera system, its crackling energy wreathing it and the drifting debris of Alliance ships that surrounded it. "EDI, prep and dispatch a data packet through the QEC. The dispatched fleet appears to have suffered heavy losses and withdrawn."

"Shook apart trying to, too, looks like…"

"Yeah, it does." She laid a hand on the man's shoulder as gently as she could, watching him work on angling them in through the wreckage. The gentle touch carried her faith in him for her, the man's shoulders easing a bit as he worked. "Let's get in there and get our people out, Joker."

"Aye, Ma'am." Joker nodded, quietly adding where the bridge crew couldn't possibly hear him, "At least we can have that…"

"Yeah." She nodded, understanding the sentiment as a chunk of hull drifted over their viewport, the name _Tireless Traveler_ written across its hull in bright yellow. "Once EDI sends the data, make the jump. I want to get a look in-system before I start preparing an insertion team to hit the Cerberus base and rescue our people."

"Aye, Commander."Joker nodded again, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back to shoot a smile at her over his shoulder. "Ready to jump blind into a system full of giant death lobsters whenever EDI is ready to send the QEC report."

"Speculative report is away and reception has been confirmed." The synthetic woman answered quietly, adding after a second, "A return request for additional confirmation on the fleet's status in-system has been received, Commander. They express sincere doubts about the recoverability of the fleet but would like confirmation regardless."

"We'll get the information to them after we're done on Horizon." She nodded, turning from the co-pilot to the main and raising an eyebrow jokingly. "Waiting for an invitation to the party then, Joker?"

"I mean, you know me, Shepard." The man laughed, seeing her game and more than leaning into it. A touch of humor to ease the crew, as he'd once explained to her, could be the thing that decides whether or not the crew hold together when the metal starts flying. "I prefer being _invited_ to parties. But eh, I guess the Reapers don't have a really good postal service, so mine might've gone missing in the mail or somethin'."

"Let's go knock on their door, then." She ordered gently, "Bring 'em the good word."

"Jehovah's Witnesses!" The man called out with a laugh that was carried through the CIC and mirrored by a handful of others laughing quietly amongst themselves, "Bringing the good word of the Lord at a fraction of the speed of light since… About ten minutes ago."

It was nice, for the short time they could enjoy it as the ship moved into the Mass Effect field of the Relay. Eezo arced out, and she felt the typical, tell-tale feeling of static climbing up her spine as it took their data and worked it's almost literal magic. That feeling, the powerful and unique _rush_ of Relaying, hadn't faded with the Reaper incursion, and she sent a prayer of thanks for every day that it lingered.

Life was about the small pleasures and interests, after all.

"Relaying now, Commander." Joker warned, the woman leaning forward to brace as the ship was finally yanked forward and sent hurtling through space. As they moved through space she grit her teeth, fighting against the way that the trembling sent her heart hammering in her chest. A heartbeat passed and they dropped out, the pilot and his synthetic companion working rapidly, "Drift under two thousand, all systems reading green on my displays. EDI?"

"All green on mine as well." She answered mechanically, "My diagnostics read all systems as green as well. Venting Relay heat and remaining heat in the Relay's shadow. We'll be moving in fifteen minutes, Commander."

"Good work. Keep your heads on swivels and the barriers primed, we don't know what we're walking-" The _Normandy_ shuddered as something impacted it and she flinched, cutting herself off and holding onto Joker's chair warily. "Reaper contacts?"

"Negative, Ma'am." Joker reported quietly, bringing up a holo-display on the wall to their left with a flick of a finger. "Debris surrounding the Relay. Scans read as, well… They aren't Reapers, mostly, I can tell you that much."

"Show me." Joker, or more likely EDI, obeyed quickly. In the center of the display a blue light blinked twice and then came to rest, surrounded by little dots that rapidly recolored themselves, and a large mass lit in yellow. "The _Normandy_ in the center, red for Reapers, green for non-Reapers, and the big obvious one is the Relay?"

"Aye, Ma'am."

"I see." And gods above did she see… Hundreds of little dots drifted by on the display, but only a handful were lit in red. "EDI, log the fleet as all sails in the water and dispatch a communication probe through the Relay. It probably won't make it but Hackett needs to know the fleet was shattered here."

"Aye, Commander." The Machine answered, adding after a moment, "I have the broadcast drone for in-system use ready to dispatch."

"Assuming anyone's there to hear it…"

"He's alive." Shepard growled, the man throwing his hands up to wave her off before she could get upset. She couldn't help it, though, even as she knew she _should_ have far more discipline than she was showing. Pushing on she ordered, "Move us away and deploy the drone when ready. Once we're safe enough, set the drone to broadcast the repeat message. John will hear it and meet us at Sanctuary."

"Aye, Ma'am." Joker nodded, tapping his screen and adding, "Seven and a half minutes and we'll be underway. Want to be at max before we make a move. Passive scans show Reapers in orbit of the planet and a few picketing between it and the Relay. None near, though, so I'm taking the time we have."

"Right." And as much as she wanted to argue with that, she knew she couldn't. Or at least _shouldn't_. John would hate for her to bend protocol and cut corners for him, even if he really needed it. That was just how he was.

How _they_ were, really.

"I'll be in Engineering, getting into gear." She finally grunted, pushing off his chair and letting his 'good luck' chase her out of the cockpit. To a standing crewmen she ordered, quietly, "Have Cortez ready the Kodiak and rerun all checks. As soon as we hit orbit, we're moving in."

"Aye, Ma'am." He nodded, "Who should I have waiting on deck for your squad, Ma'am?"

"No one." She answered simply, moving on before the man could do more than nod. It had been a while since she hit the deck on her own,

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"She will be alright, Jeff." EDI assured him after a few minutes had gone by, the two of them working in quiet tandem. As the _Normandy_ began to move he hit a button, dropping the drone off and then stealthing their ship again and burning away. "You know she can handle anything short of an orbital bombardment. Even that, I would wager, would face difficulties doing her any permanent harm."

"Yeah, I know…" She was a crazy bitch like that. If being spaced couldn't keep her down, he was willing to believe nothing could. "I mean, I know she's harder than anything this side of a fantasy novel."

"Indeed." The AI chuckled, seeing his attempt at humor, at least, and humoring him for it. "Yet you are worried."

"Yeah." He sighed, watching a handful of Reapers that had been closing in on them for their entire stay suddenly stop and start looking around confusedly. "I am. She's loyal to her team right down to a fault, and that's good. But sometimes…"

"Sometimes she takes risks for her team which are bigger than should be acceptable." EDI offered, earning a quiet little sigh and nod from her partner. For a while, that was all that was said, the two of them busy with their work. Finally, though, she murmured, "Were she not the way she is, though, I might not still be alive. Much less in a body of my own."

"Yeah." And that was why he wasn't complaining, or at least a large part of it. She was just… Too kind. "But if she keeps lighting herself on fire to keep everyone _else_ warm, then nothing good is going to come our way. Just a vaguely Commander shaped charcoal briquette with extra sass flavoring."

"What would sass even taste like…?"

"Dunno." He smirked, cocking a head and raising an eyebrow at her. "Wanna find out on Tuesday maybe?"

"My word…" EDI laughed, " _You're_ feeling bold today."

"Yeah, well." He shrugged, casually angling his ship around a massive hunk of debris and trying _very_ hard to ignore the usual and obvious Alliance curves it bore, broken now by long-cooled tears throughout its decking and hull. "Space squids of doom and destruction will _kinda_ do that to you, turns out. Who knew?"

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

"It was a burst transmission, probably from a disposable, um, drone. If I had to guess it was probably deployed at or through the Relay itself." Beau relayed once she'd gotten the two of them back together outside their little cave. She let the Omni orange fade from around her arm and leaned back against the rock of the cave's entrance, grimacing and murmuring, "It went offline after a little while, though. Probably destroyed by the Reapers."

"That's good news though, isn't it?" Zaeed grumbled, pacing a few steps away with his eye on the trees and sky, wary of anything _not_ green or brown wandering their way. Reapers or just the giant bugs the planet had, he wasn't playing with either. "Means some sons'o'bitches are in-system, headin' to save our asses. Right?"

"Or just heading to attack Sanctuary…"

"That's why they ordered us to, too." He grunted, sat in the grass with his back against the wall beside the technician's thigh. Turning his leg over he grimaced at the tightness there but sighed and shrugged, knowing he didn't have a choice _but_ to ignore the only partially healed wound. "We assault at the given time and odds are they'll see us doing it. Then we can rally together, complete the objective, and exfil with whoever is coming to meet us there."

"Right." The woman nodded, looking at the pistol he'd given to her and frowning.

"We'll be fine, Beau." John grunted, bumping her calf with his elbow and drawing a little 'eep' from her for it. Smiling from behind his visor he reassured her as best he could, "Zaeed and I can keep you safe, Beau. Don't worry about it. Just focus on keeping an eye out when we're inside, and follow our orders, and you'll be just fine."

"Right…" The girl smiled, sliding down to sit beside him and tucking her knees against her chest. Setting the heavy pistol on the ground beside her she sighed, watching Zaeed pace quietly and murmuring, "I am _so_ not cut out for this… I'm a ship technician."

"Yeah, well, welcome to field work."

"Zaeed…" He growled warningly, "You aren't being helpful."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, ya damn cripple." He growled, waving the armored ODST off when he growled another warning. Back to them he sighed, scratching at his neck and going on, "Can we focus? I wanna protect Little Bit as much as you do, but wallowing and bitching ain't gonna do it. 'Sides, ain't _nobody_ I know who's cut out for fightin' this war, so she ain't special for it."

"True." But not something she needed rubbed in her face, he was sure. Turning to her and moving on he asked, "When do we need to be there to meet up with the reinforcements?"

"Late morning, just before noon standard time." She answered quietly, raising an arm to go over the transmission she'd received again. Reading off of it she explained, "Orders are to be at the front entrance then to link up with the unit coming in to take over our job. Or, um, well, _your_ job, I guess."

"Objective changes?"

"Doesn't say." She answered quietly, shrugging and letting her Omni-Tool's light die again, casting them in the afternoon light. "I suppose the unit coming will already know all of their objectives and we'll just… Follow after them."

"They don't know who's alive, so relyin' on us is a bad plan." Zaeed added in agreement, turning to give them both a little look and jerking a thumb over his shoulder, towards the forest. "Gonna hit up the river again. Some water, maybe some fish for dinner unless I see somethin' else on the way. Sound about right for you two?"

"Food is food." He shrugged, "Miss Beau?"

"F-Food is food, yeah." She answered, busy working on her Omni-Tool again now that they had moved on. Once Zaeed was gone, her fingers stilled and she asked, quietly, "Will you be honest with me, for a second?"

"Of course." He nodded.

"I'm a hindrance, aren't I?" He opened his mouth and she added, quickly, "I just want the truth. I deserve it."

"...You are, yeah." He answered after a second, the girl frowning while he explained, hoping to somewhat soften the blow of the statement. "Not for any reason that you're responsible for, though. You're supposed to be on a ship, not in the field. This isn't your job, you _should_ be a liability out here. There's nothing wrong with that."

"You told me that an ODST leaves things behind when they get in the way, though." She murmured, giving him a sidelong glance while she resumed whatever she was working on. "So why… Why haven't you left me behind? I-I'm in the way."

"You're useful-"

"No I'm _not_." She snapped, unexpectedly angry and turning to glare at him hotly. He blinked, unsure of what to say, and the angry little woman went on, "I'm just a dead weight and you know it. I'm terribly at all this survival stuff, I can't shoot that well, I'm unarmored _and_ unshielded- How am I useful?"

"You're not, at least for right now." He finally answered, blinking slowly and watching the woman ease back, waiting for more. "You're not useful, not out here, but in there you might be. You're a technician, and those skills, skills Zaeed and I don't have, might be useful. Even if they aren't, though, you're important for _after_."

"After…?"

"You're a technician supporting very important roles in the war effort." He answered simply, bringing his knee up and resting his forearm on it comfortably. "You're a liability right now, sure, but you might not be when the _mission_ is underway properly."

"I-I guess that makes sense, yeah..." She sighed, turning and leaning her head back against the stone behind her, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, this is all just…"

"Overwhelming." He nodded, watching her understandingly and sighing as he turned to watch the trees instead. After a moment he offered, quietly, "I'm not going to abandon you even if you aren't useful, though. You need to get that thought out of your head."

"Why not…?" She murmured, turning to him with those big eyes of hers. "I thought you said-"

"I know what I said, but that doesn't apply- This is just different, alright?" Her eyes narrowed in confusion and he grunted, turning back to the trees and shrugging. She didn't seem convinced, though, and so he sighed, thinking and explaining at the same time, "The Commander wouldn't leave her team behind and whether you like it or not, you're on mine now. So just… I don't know, just don't worry about that, Miss Beau."

"Alright…"

"What are you working on?" He asked, looking for anything that could change the subject. She blinked her confusion and he explained, glad his distraction had worked, "You've been working with your Omni-Tool all week, off and on. What are you up to?"

"I'm, uh, I'm setting up tech attacks." She answered quietly, flicking it up and holding her arm out, sheathed in orange while her fingers danced across a flat panel that stretched from the inside of her elbow out to her open, splayed palm. After a moment, electricity arced from the palm of her hand and out, crackling against a stone a few feet away. Sheepishly, she lowered her arm and shrugged, "I'm still, uh, tuning them. The range and power are kind of weak, but I'm _making_ the programs myself."

"See?" He smiled, bumping his elbow against her side. "You're learning a few tricks already. We get out of here and I'll teach you more, if you want."

"Really?!"

"Sure." He shrugged, glad to see the smile split her face. "Shooting, hand-to-hand tricks, whatever you want. There's a lot to learn but if you want to learn it," he shrugged, "then I'll teach you."

"I'll, um, I'll hold you to that." She murmured, earning a little nod from him and then standing. Pistol in her hands, she smiled and said, "I'm going to, you know… Gather some wood for the fire tonight, then. We'll need it to cook the, uh, w-whatever that the mercenary brings back. Can you hold the camp down on your own?"

"Sure." He nodded, watching her walk away and grimacing, confused after the conversation for reasons _wholly_ unrelated to the subject matter.

Why _was_ he so determined to take care of her? Personally, he blamed Shepard's influence for it.

"We'll proceed straight to the objective from here, under cover of the heavy woodlands between us and Sanctuary." He murmured come the morning, after a brisk and light breakfast and last check of his gear. That same tree cover that had kept them safe and hidden from the prying eyes of Cerberus and the Reapers, alongside the fighting they could _still_ hear echoing in the distance. "We don't know what to expect when we get there, or en route, so we'll be proceeding carefully in a U formation. Zaeed and I on the flanks and forward, Miss Beau in the center but far back."

"That way we can cover your little ass if shit goes sideways." Zaeed explained for her, earning a little grumble from the woman beside him. Whatever he thought of her grumbled insults, he moved on, "I've patrolled 'bout a third of the way there and didn't see nothin', though. I'd suggest we hot arch, 'least until we get there."

"That way if anything happens after, we won't be late to the rendezvous." 'And get left behind' he didn't add, though when he looked at each of them he saw they understood as much already. "We'll hot march as long as we all can handle it, then. If we push ourselves, though, some of us will be combat ineffective on-site. We need to avoid that."

"I-I can keep up, though."

"Maybe, but if I reopen my wound, I won't be able to fight." His leg was healed enough that wasn't as much of a real concern anymore, but she didn't know that. At her understanding nod he smiled and moved on, "Once there, we'll adapt to conditions as we meet them. We can't anticipate what we'll find, though, so there's no point planning. Maintain formation, lock pace with our slowest unit, and we'll be fine."

"Aye, Sir."

"Sure, works for me."

"Good." He nodded, flicking his arm to dismiss the old survey map they'd all been equipped with ahead of the original his Harrier and polarizing his visor he ordered, quietly, "Move out."

As they marched, they kept their eyes and ears open, nearly sprinting through the foliage for the first mile before slowing as they reached the edge of Zaeed's patrolled zone. Outside it, though, they slowed to a careful near-crawl, checking behind each tree and bush in their path carefully. For a long time, they found nothing of interest, but as they came to be nearer to Sanctuary than their hiding place that changed.

And it changed _drastically_ as well.

The first were bodies, Husks and Cerberus troopers in clusters around the forest who had ripped each other to pieces in what looked like short, frantic fights. Ambushes, maybe, judging from the ranks of fallen Husks and Cannibals circling around the Cerberus infantry where they had fallen. Always in clusters, back to back almost with circles of Reaper casualties around them, unless they had been collectively _blown_ apart by something more explosive.

Beyond that, the forest had been ripped apart, vast swathes of trees, undergrowth and earth ripped up and apart by mechanized units, Reaper heavy infantry, and artillery and armor on both sides. Aircraft from both sides had been blasted apart as well, and ripped even more troughs through the undergrowth and forestry. The debris, bodies and shattered vehicles lay strewn about where they'd fallen, unmolested and alone, smoldering where they had fallen. They didn't see any enemies but, whistling quietly, he called their formation together to plan the next leg of their approach.

"God…" Miss Beau murmured when they were together again, kneeling behind fallen trees at the edge of one of the vast, dozens of yards wide troughs of destruction. "I-Is this what other planets look like? All the ones the Reapers have?"

"This shit's pretty normal, actually." Zaeed countered, eyeing the destruction impassively. "Big battle's tend to fuck shit up pretty damn good. Reapers have their own kinda destruction norms, but this ain't there."

"Jesus…"

"We'll need to go faster, circle around to keep our cover." John grunted, ignoring the short conversation to push on. Gesturing across the open field with his rifle he added quietly, turning to his two companions, "Going straight on would be faster, though. I don't see any air power or infantry, so they may not be watching."

"Screams ambush." Zaeed grunted, "And we can make it on time without runnin' around."

"Miss Beau?"

"Better safe than sorry." She shrugged, sweating and breathing heavily but sounding and looking sure of herself. Looking from him to the open ground, she went on, "As long as we, um, get there on time, I don't mind extra work to do it. And if we run short, we can cross open ground closer in, right?"

"Doing that closer is riskier."

"But doin' it when we don't need to is _pointless_ risk." Zaeed countered him, the ODST humming and nodding. Standing, the man grunted and moved past them along the treeline, watching the open grund warily and calling back, "C'mon, then, let's fuckin' move already. Wastin' time here won't do anything but put us in the shit later."

Nodding he rose and moved on, the three of them moving in the same formation with their 'U' keeping Beau in the forest and the two of them on the edge. So, a 'C' formation then, he supposed. But it would work out regardless, he hoped.

 _ **XxX-XxX-XxX**_

 _ **Nathan Hale 2 :**_

 **This is from a non-omniscient, over the shoulder kind of perspective viewed in the lens of what the Rookie knows. He doesn't know why Zaeed is acting as he is, so I can't explain it in-story.**

 _ **Mew Lover :**_

 **Grunt is fighting on random planet number nineteen. Jack is… *spoilers*. Other characters are acting as they do in-canon, and haven't shown up yet. SOME of the side-stories will have their own in-universe endings or not be mentioned for reasons of pacing and time.**

 **Sorry 'bout that.**

 _ **Enji Benjy :**_

 **There IS a lot more to it, yeah.**


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